


The Longest Time

by TheoAirplane



Category: Hockey - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Hockey, Humor, Photography
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2829344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoAirplane/pseuds/TheoAirplane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Colbie moved from Edmonton to Pittsburgh seeking adventure, she never thought that adventure would include NHL star James Neal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was two days past my twentieth birthday when I woke up and left. I had a million reasons to leave, but the most important one was the overwhelming suffocation I felt living in my small prairie city. I was born in Edmonton, I'd grown up in Edmonton, and if I didn't get out, I'd die in Edmonton. I started planning my great escape when I was twelve. I'd lie in bed at night and think of all the things I'd rather be doing and all the places I'd rather be. Looking back, it was a bit masochistic because as a twelve year old there was obviously no place I could escape to. I was far too reasonable a child to become a runaway and instead bided my time. At fifteen I watched enviously as my older sister relocated to Toronto leaving me behind with half of her vinyl collection and a Pentax K1000 film camera.

"I promise one day you'll get your break," she whispered in my ear as she said goodbye. "But in the meantime try to see things through everyone else's eyes. ," she slipped three canisters of film in my pocket and kissed my cheek. Always the dramatic, it was only fitting that she leave on a cryptic but encouraging note. If my life were an oscar-winning film that would have been the last time I saw my older sister, but in reality she called two days later and came home for Christmas ever year, usually with a new passion and hairstyle.

When she left I suddenly became the oldest of the three -almost four- remaining children in the house, and was expected to be of some help to my then freshly pregnant mother. Instead I was more preoccupied with seeing things through the eyes of the Pentax than making her life easier. I was fifteen and already had a 'places to go' list longer than my arm. I tried to do everything right in high school, get good grades, get a part time job, date the popular boys, but instead I followed in my sister's footsteps and got less than desirable grades in everything except art, lost every job I got, and dated an incredibly nerdy but undeniably sweet boy with wildly curly hair and a stutter. As it turned out, neither my sister nor I could live up to the standard set by mainstream media, the high standard of normality and achievement. But while my peers were doing things 'right' I was building my portfolio and getting the partying out of my system. So what if it took me an extra year to actually get my diploma.

Four months before my twentieth birthday I sat in my parents basement on the phone with my sister complaining about anything and everything. The two most common topics were our four year old sister- who had just coloured all over the very expensive prints I was trying to sell, and the feeling I had that I was going nowhere in life.

"Would you just move out already?" She sighed on the other end of the line. "No offense Colbie, but you're starting to sound like a child."

"Move out and do what exactly?" I was rolling my eyes even if she couldn't see me.

"Oh I don't know, maybe do some of the things you keep saying you want to do?"

"Mallory!" I whined, dangerously close to stomping my foot too. "It's not that easy, I can't just do those things, I have to prepare for them."

"No, I'm pretty sure it is that easy, you're just a pansy. Go do something with your life or stop complaining." My sister of infinite wisdom had struck a cord inside me and I couldn't decide if I wanted to cry or laugh.

"What should I do?" I whimpered, definitely closer to crying.

"Check your email in twenty minutes," and she hung up.

Our conversation left me frustrated and confused, but twenty minutes later I did as I was told and opened my inbox to find five emails from Mallory O'Connor, a.k.a my new life coach. Each email had a bullshit inspirational quote and the link to a different school. Four of them were art and photography programs and one a mortuary program, a long running inside joke between us that one of us should join the funeral industry just to bother my parents. None of the schools where within three-hundred kilometers of my hometown, Montreal, New York, Chicago, and Pittsburgh. Over the next week I sent applications to the four art programs and firmly reminded myself that my chances of getting in were slim to none. And slim were the results, I quickly received rejections from New York and Montreal. I decided to forget about Chicago and Pittsburgh and focus on my promising career at the record store. Between that and my lucrative babysitting business, and by lucrative I mean I babysat on weekends for two families with two kids a piece, I had saved a decent chunk of change. It wasn't enough to quit my job and move to Mexico, but it was something. Two months after I sent the application I received the promising 'thick envelope', inside was my acceptance letter to Carnegie Mellon and instructions on how to get a student visa. I went from hopeless and suffocated, to overjoyed and slightly terrified in a matter of weeks. I was doing what I'd been dreaming about my whole life and I spent the week before my departure crying in every room of my childhood home.

  Mallory and I packed up my Honda Civic and prepared to make the 3,300 km drive to Pittsburgh. Before my final goodbye, we gathered the family- my parents, two younger sisters, and kid brother- and took the picture that I would have framed on my nightstand for the next three years. We looked like Canada's answer to the Weasley family. Each one of us with a different shade of red hair but the same pale skin and freckles. My parents with their arms around each other, four year old Aoife scowling at the camera while Jacob tried to hold up 'bunny ears' behind Fallon's head. Mallory and I were on the ends, the first two to leave the nest and smiling the widest.

After the first day, where I cried so hard I couldn't drive, we spent the trip laughing and singing loudly. We traded off driving and playing DJ every few hours. Each day guaranteed two things: one, that I would take close to one hundred pictures, and two, that we would spent hours serenading each other to Billy Joel, the anthem to our journey. Four days later we pulled up to my new home, a one bedroom apartment near the university campus. The apartment wasn't exactly five star accommodations but it came with some furnishings and was affordable. Between student loans, my savings, and the job I hoped to acquire immediately I would be able to survive. We unpacked my record player first and spent our last two days together dancing around and trying to make the cramped apartment welcoming. We hung up framed prints of my favourite photographs, bought lime green plates and bowels, and managed to assemble a desk without hurting ourselves. Slowly, it felt like a place I could find myself.  

Dropping Mallory off at the airport left me unconsolable and lost. Yes I had GPS to get home, but I had no idea what to do with myself. For the first time in my life I had no one banging on my door, or asking me to do something. I was free, but I was lonely. I drove around the unfamiliar city until the sun had set, then headed back to my new, empty home. With the door locked behind me I dropped to the floor and crumpled into a sobbing mess. A loud banging on the wall told me my neighbours weren't the sympathetic type and I headed to the shower where I could cry in peace. As I walked passed the record player in the corner of the living room I saw a shiny red bow. It was stuck to an album I'd had on the top of my list for years: Billy Joel An Innocent Man. Next to it a note, written in my sister's loopy handwriting.

  Colbie,  
"I don't care what consequence it brings  
I have been a fool for lesser things "  
I'm so proud of you. Congratulations on living your life. I'll be here when you need me.  
xoxo   
Mallory


	2. Chapter 2

My first few days in Pittsburgh was a blur of campus tours, supply lists, and exhaustion. I wasn't used to doing so much in a day. My live in Edmonton had been more on the relaxed side. I got home after buying the majority of my supplies and realized I needed a job more desperately than I had anticipated. Sitting at the desk we'd built, I turned on my laptop and typed 'Pittsburgh Jobs' into Google. Millions of hits appeared and scrolled down to a Craigslist link. I wasn't sure how working on a student visa would pan out so I decided to aim low. Ads for call girls, midnight gas station attendants, and door-to-door sales left me a little discouraged. I wanted to aim low but not that low. I sent off resumes to a few retail stores and hotels, trying to keep my options open. I was about to give up when I saw the final ad on the fifth page. WANTED: After school in home caregiver for three children, preferably energetic. The ad was posted by a Mrs. Jessica Jones and listed the children's ages as 2, 5, and 8. With nothing to lose I typed up an email and attached my resume.

Moments later I had one new message in my inbox from Jessica Jones.  
Hi Colbie,   Thank you for your email. Are you available to meet tomorrow?  
Jessica

We had arranged to meet at her home that Saturday afternoon. I left an hour early wearing a pair of dark skinny jeans and a loose white blouse, my chin length red curls pinned out of my face and my make up on the minimal side. My goal was to look casual but professional. I found the house easily, it was more central than I was, in a nice suburban area. Like most suburban neighbourhoods I’d been in, the houses all seemed to look alike. Two car garages in the front, nicely manicured lawns, the same square shape, and red dirt colour. It wasn’t the kind of area I’d want to photograph, but it seemed like a nice enough place to raise a family. I circled around the block a few times, not wanting to appear over eager by arriving too early. I noted the slightest of possibilites that I could be walking into a crazy person’s house and dug around my back seat looking for some kind of self defence weapon. I pulled a screw driver from under the passenger’s seat and stashed it in my purse. Realistically I had no idea what I was walking in to and I’d hate to find myself without a weapon capable of gouging someone’s eyes out. I checked over my appearance one final time and the clock on my cellphone. Only ten minutes early. Ten minutes seemed responsible.

I rang the doorbell and almost instantly the front door was opened by a small blonde woman holding an equally small blonde toddler.  
“You must be Colbie,” She smiled and welcomed me in to the casually decorated home. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. Come sit and you can meet the boys.” She led me into the living room where I sat on a blush brown couch. The room was bright and clean, with toys neatly piled in baskets and clutter hidden away.  
She left for a minute and I heard her call outside for the other two children before sitting in a chair across from me.

“You have a lovely home,” I smiled nervously.

“Thank you,” she adjusted the little girl on her lap. “The boys should be in in a minute. In the meantime, how long have you been in Pittsburgh?”

“Three days,” I replied, blushing unnoticeably. “I moved from Edmonton for school."

“Wow, that’s quite the move, how are you liking it?” The little girl rest her head on Jessica’s shoulder and put her thumb in her mouth.

“It’s great so far,” which wasn’t exactly the truth. Honestly I found it overwhelming and lonely, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

“I’m glad. It’s a great place to live,” she smiled. “So what kind of experience do you have with kids?”

“Well I’m one of five in my family. I have three younger siblings. The youngest is five and the oldest is seventeen. I also babysat for a few families in Edmonton, I’m sure I can get references if you’d like me to.” I was starting to ramble and consciously closed my mouth before I said anything stupid.

She was about to reply when we heard a little voice hollar from the kitchen. “Mom! Can you get me juice?” he called.

“I will in a bit, can you guys come meet Colbie?” Jessica called back and the two little blonde boys came running into the room. The looked at suspiciously. “This is Jack,” she pointed to the younger of the two, “and this is Riley.”

“Hi guys,” I smiled at them. “I’m Colbie.” I figured interacting with them would be a good way to get the job.

They mumbled what sounded like hello then sat on the floor in front of me and dumped out a basket of toys. “Oh, and this is Ruby.” Jessica looked down at the half asleep girl on her shoulder and smiled maternally.

We went over the details of the job and Jessica immediately offered me the position. “I have a good feeling about you,” she patted my shoulder as I said goodbye. I’d start on Monday after my first morning of classes. I left feeling excited. After years of being in limbo, my life was finally falling into place. I had my own apartment, a new job, and the hope of school. It was more than I’d had since graduating a few years prior. Energized by the positive results I couldn’t bring myself to drive home, instead I headed to the downtown core of the city and parked at a meter. Two hours worth of change, I grabbed my camera and set off to see the city through new eyes.

If I’m being honest, it didn’t take much for a city to be nicer than my hometown, so Pittsburgh seemed to radiate energy and possibilities. I wandered the streets taking capturing everything around me. By the end of my two hours I had pictures of the river, of graffiti and alleyways, and more than one shot of the Consol Energy Centre. When I finally went home I was just tired enough to eat dinner and head to bed early. A very uncommon occurrence in my life, I was without a doubt a night person, but night people don’t do so well in morning classes so I’d added to my list of things to change. A list that had been getting shorter and shorter.

“Colbie, what’s your favourite movie?” Riley asked as we sat at the kitchen table colouring.

“Probably Monsters Inc.”

“Cobie, what’s your favourite colour?” Jack asked immediately after.

“Yellow, like the sun.” They’d quickly warmed up to me after Jessica left for work. The two boys didn’t start school for another week so Jessica would be with them in the morning and I would come over after classes so she could go into the office.

“Colbie, what’s your favourite sport?” Riley asked me very seriously, placing his crayon infront of him.

“I guess hockey,” I shrugged and got up to refill Ruby’s sippy-cup.

“That is a very good answer!” Jack screeched excited then jumped up from his place at the table.

“Very, Very good!” Riley followed him.

“Good!” Ruby screamed clapping her hands together.

“I’m glad you approve,” I turned around to see two little blonde heads running out the back door. I picked up Ruby and went out after them. “What are you doing?” I called to them across the yard.

“Nothing!” They sang in unison, but I could see they had something up their sleeves. I watched them throw a ball back and forth. They were dangerously close to the neighbour’s fence and I warned them to be careful. The last thing I wanted was to have them break a neighbour’s window on my first day supervising them.

“Juice,” Ruby whined, putting her tiny hand on my cheek.

“Right, juice. We can do juice,” I smiled at her then held her high in the air like an airplane. We flew into the kitchen and made a smooth landing on the counter. I filled her cup with half juice half water like Jessica had shown me then handed to her. She smiled and put it directly in her mouth, sucking half of it back without a break.

“Colbie, we have to go next door,” Riley said matter of factly, walking through the kitchen and to the front door, his brother following behind.

“What for?” I trailed behind them, taking Ruby and her juice with me.

“Jack threw the ball into the other yard.” Like any kid, Riley blamed his little brother, although I doubted there was anyway Jack could throw that high.

“I thought I told you guys to be careful?” we slipped our shoes on and walked out the front door.

“It happens,” Riley shrugged and I tried not to laugh at his nonchalance.

We walked up to the house on our left. It looked like the other ones on the block except there were no toys or bikes in the front yard. I rang the doorbell and the boys grinned at each other. They had to be up to something but I couldn’t figure out what it could possibly be. We waited a few minutes then Riley rang the bell again, hitting the button three times.

“Easy, maybe no one is home,” I suggested.

“He’s home,” Jack said.

Sure enough, a few seconds later the front door opened to reveal a man standing shirtless, his sweatpants hung low on his hips. He ran his hand through his dark hair and I found myself staring at his bare chest. Toned and muscular with the tiniest trail of hair. I bit my lip and tried to refocus my attention but then found myself captivated by his blue eyes.

“James!” Riley grinned at the man. “We lost our ball in your yard.”

“Is that right?” The tall man looked down at the boys and smiled. “Well go get it,” he held the door open and they ran past him giggling.

“I’m so sorry about that,” I shifted Ruby in my arms and tried not to stare at his smooth skin.

“Don’t worry about it, I think they do it on purpose,” he laughed and invited me in.

“Why would they do that?” I asked, slipping past him and standing the entryway of his nearly empty house.

“I have a Xbox,” he smiled and reached out to play with Ruby’s hand. “Their mom doesn’t let them have video games in the house so they find excuses to come over here.”

“I knew they were up to something,” I shook my head. “I’m sorry if they disrupted you, I’ll go tell them it’s time to go.” I headed for the patio doors where I saw Riley and Jack outside looking for the ball.

“Don’t worry about it,” he followed me, grabbing shirt along the way. “I wasn’t doing anything. You must be the new sitter?” He leaned against the island counter and watched the boys outside.

“Yeah, I’m Colbie,” he shook my outstretched hand.

“James,” his smile gave me goosebumps.

“Can we play?” Riley asked, running into the kitchen.

“Ask Colbie,” James looked at me.

“I guess, but nothing violent.” I tried to sound authoritative and mature. They ran past us and into the living room. Ruby squirmed in my arms and I set her on the floor to join her brothers.

“How long have you been sitting for them?” James asked, opening the fridge.

“This is my first day,” I noticed the fridge was filled with mostly beer and gatorade.

“Ah, Jessica must have forgotten to warn you about their schemes,” he chuckled. “Do you want a drink?”

“Water would be great thanks,” I sat on one of the stools at the counter and tried to appear calm and collected, when really I couldn’t stop staring at his sculpted ass.

“What do you do?” I asked casually.

“Either you’re new here or you don’t watch hockey,” he winked and placed the glass of water in front of me.

“New,” I blushed. “I just moved from Edmonton a few days ago, so I definitely like hockey.”

“I play for the Penguins,” he sat down beside me. “Number eighteen.” I blushed deeper realizing who he was. How could I not have recognized him? Better yet, what cosmic force did I impress enough to lead me to be sitting in James Neal’s kitchen?


	3. Chapter 3

As September came to a close, Pittsburgh was quickly becoming home and between school and my job I was pleasantly distracted. My four courses constantly reminded me that I was doing what I love.

“So why photography?” James asked as we sat at the kitchen counter making small talk. It was the fifth time in a month the boys had weaselled their way into James’ house and we were getting to know each other decently well.

“Lots of reasons,” I shrugged, not ready to get too deep with him. “I like being able to watch things and capture moments.”

“I never would have thought about it like that,” he admitted. “What’s you're favourite thing to shoot?”

“Jack, you can’t play as the Maple Leafs! They’re stupid!” Riley cried from the living room.

“Guys,” I leapt from my chair, finding the perfect excuse to remove myself from his intimidating and captivating presence. “If you don’t get along James is going to kick us out,” I threatened lightly, sitting on the floor next to them, Ruby toddling over to join me.

“We’d be fine if Jack didn’t pick stupid teams,” Riley pouted.

“There’s no such thing as a stupid team,” I heard James say behind me. “I was a leafs fan when I was your age.” He sat down on the other side of them and leaned against the couch.

“What’s your favourite team, Colbie?” Jack asked, resting his little head against my arm. The two boys had warmed up to me quickly and we found ourselves in a nice routine.

With Riley and Jack back at school my work day started at noon when Jessica would go to work and Ruby and I would spend the afternoon reading books and going for walks. At three-thirty we’d pick the boys up from school and the real chaos would begin. Homework before television and keeping them out of the cupboard before dinner became my daily challenge. But their energy was contagious and I couldn't get enough of their crooked smiles and regular hugs.

“The Oilers of course,” I pulled his little body onto my lap and hugged him.

“Are the Oilers a stupid team?” Jack asked all of us.

“Not as stupid as Toronto,” Riley answered, the expert on the subject.

“Okay, then I’ll be the Oilers!” the little boy grinned, the controller too big for his small hands.

I glanced over at James, he was watching the boys and smiling. His hair intentionally messy and a slight stubble covering his jaw. I tried not to stare but found myself constantly studying his blue eyes and they way the skin around them creased when he smiled. I want to take pictures of every part of him, tiny masterpieces of his beautifully crafted features. But that would be creepy and I wasn’t in the habit of indulging my inner stalker. The boys were about to start the first period of their virtual hockey game when my phone vibrated. I dug it out of my pocket and shifted Jack off of my lap.

Jessica:   I’m going to be stuck at the office, can you stay late? Their dad is stuck too.

I’d never met their dad and I had the impression that he wasn’t around much. Neither of the boys spoke of him the way I spoke about my dad. All I knew about him was he was a lawyer who travelled a lot. Jessica on the other hand had become a support and friend in my new life. My first few weeks in Pittsburgh were tough and she offered herself as my personal city guide, even helping me put the finishing touches on my apartment and reminding me there was a place for me at the house if I ever felt lonely. I considered them my surrogate family.

I told Jessica not to worry, that I’d stay as late as she needed and opened the calendar on my phone. I had a design project due soon but one late night wouldn’t kill me. In fact, the kids were proving to be perfect subjects for my photo series and were enamoured with my camera, constantly asking to have their picture taken.

“We should probably head out soon guys, your mum isn’t going to be home until later and I have to start dinner,” I stood up and took their juice glasses into the kitchen.

“I was going to make steak,” James offered, coming in behind me. “You guys are more than welcome to stay, or we can go next door if that’s easier,” he glanced back at Ruby who was not quite big enough to sit at the table.

“Are you sure?” I rinsed the glasses and looked back at him.

“Yeah, it’d be nice to have the company,” he smiled and I had to remind myself not to blush like an idiot.

Cooking had never been my specialty. I could make a mean box of K.D but other than that I wasn’t the most comfortable in the kitchen. Unfortunately neither was James. We’d placed the frozen steaks in the microwave to find a pool of blood and water spilling out when the door was opened. I’d tried to cook potatoes and instead burnt them to the point where they resembled genetically modified raisins.

“Okay, I have an idea,” James looked up at me from where he was on the floor, mopping up the steak juice with paper towel.

“Pizza? Because that seems like a reasonable idea right now,” I scraped bits of potato from the frying pan. My Irish parents would be so ashamed of me.

“No, I’m not ready to give up,” he chuckled and pulled out his phone, leaving the room to make a call. Thankfully the boys were still distracted by the Xbox and hadn’t noticed that their dinner was nearly an hour late. Ruby on the other hand had to be bribed with a cookie to stop whining.

“Help is on the way,” James returned looking more relaxed.

A minute later a tall blonde man walked in and survey the scene. “Well at least you didn’t set off the smoke detector,” he laughed and James who looked slightly ashamed.

“Close, but the fire was out as quickly as it started,” James laughed. “Oh, Colbie this is Paul.

“Nice to meet you Colbie,” he shook my hand and smiled.

“She’s sitting for Jessica,” James added.

“Jones? She’s a nice lady. Are this kids here?” Paul looked around and I pointed to the living room where they’d been told to stay until dinner was ready. He snuck in the room behind them and I heard a chorus of giggles and shrieks.

“He lives a few houses down,” James clarified, likely noticing the confusion on my face. “Plays defence.”

“Right,” I smiled and turned back to my pan.

Dinner was served half an hour later, Paul had come to our rescue and everyone was fed by the time 8:00pm rolled around. Jessica still wasn’t home and I tried not to worry as I got the boys in their pyjamas, James having yet to leave tried his best not to distract them. He sat with Ruby while I tucked them in and read aloud from a collection of stories. It was hard not to find myself even more attracted to the sizeable man when I saw him with the sleeping toddler in his arms.

“She mumbled something about a rabbit then passed out,” he whispered handing Ruby to me.

“Thank you,” I cradled her warm body against me and carried her up the stairs to her room. I tucked her stuffed rabbit in next to her and closed the door gently behind me, nearly colliding with James.

“So, I don’t know if this is like weird,” he whispered nervously. “But I have tickets to the home opener this weekend and I’d really like it if you came. You can bring the boys too, they’d probably love it.”

I could help but grin at the blush in his cheeks and the way he linked his fingers together anxiously. “They would love that,” my stomach twitched with butterflies and I wanted desperately to run my hand along his stubbly jaw, just to make sure he was real. “When is it?”

“Saturday, puck drop is at 7:00pm I think.”

I had a hundred things to do that weekend. Projects, assignments, and a Skype date with Mallory, but there was no way I could pass on his offer. “Okay,” I smiled excited. “Thank you.”

I managed to keep the boys in their own backyard for the rest of the week. Part of my wanted them to sneak over there just so I’d have an excuse to see James again, but promise of the hockey game kept them on their best behaviour. I’d already left when he dropped the tickets off the night before the game, laying on the floor of my living room when Jessica text me.

Jessica:  
James left your tickets. Have you noticed how incredibly attractive he is? You should probably look into getting with that pronto.

I rolled my eyes and reminded her it was for the boys. He was an NHL rising star and I wasn’t so delirious to think I had any chance with him. I pulled a pillow off of the couch and shoved it under my head, chastising myself for even entertaining the idea. My experience with relationships, and men in general was limited. I spent my high school years dating my best friend, Ben. Most people at the time had no idea we were together because we acted more like siblings than lovers. He was sweet, and I loved him, but there was nothing earth shattering about it. No butterflies or sleepless nights, it just happened. Everything progressed so casually, even our breakup was low key and mutual. Things with Ben were always easy and as a result I had no idea how to approach anything else. My string of post-high school flings had followed the same formula, friends, sex, parting ways. It was empty and anti-climactic and the last thing I wanted in my new life. I groaned and tossed the pillow back on the couch. I didn’t have time to be worrying about a guy who would never see me romantically, I had school to keep me busy.


	4. Chapter 4

We walked along the concourse of the Consol Energy Centre, Jack and Riley each dressed in their own Neal jersey while I wore a heavy sweater and jeans. The boys giggled excitedly, their little hands tightly gripping mine. Jessica had slipped me some extra money on our way out the door to buy treats. I suspected she was relieved to have a night without them. Her husband was away on business and I hoped she’d take some time to herself.

“Can we get popcorn and cotton candy?” Jack asked, dragging me to the concession.

“If you think you can eat all that,” I ruffled his hair.

We headed to our seats armed with hot dogs, pop, cotton candy and of course popcorn. It was a good thing I could return them to their mother after the final whistle because I had a feeling they’d make themselves sick. Our seats were against the glass, the row behind the home bench providing the perfect view of the players and centre eyes. We were so close I could have sworn I smelt the stench of gear as they piled in. Jack and Riley waved frantically when they saw James stand directly in front of us. He grinned and waved back along with a few of the other guys. This sent the boys into a fit and they spent most of the Star Spangled Banner shaking with excitement.

The puck dropped and instantly my eyes were glued on the game. Every so often I’d glance at the bench and notice the sweat drenched players, my stomach always fluttering when James sat in front of us. I was star struck to be so close the players. I found it hard to remember that I had already met two of them.

“There’s a lady?” Riley pointed out halfway into the second period.

“What?” Jack scanned the ice confused. They’d seen enough hockey to know it was mostly men.

“Right there!” Riley pointed to the end of the bench where a woman with her dark hair pulled unto a bun stood in the corner next to the coaches.

“She’s probably a medic or trainer,” I told the boys, pleased to know that the team was more inclusive than most.

“That’s weird,” Jack shook his head and shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Why is it weird?” I asked him, surprised by his statement.

“She’s a girl, girls don’t play hockey.” He shook his head.

“Don’t be silly,” I pulled him into me. “Girls can do anything boys can do.”

He rolled his eyes and I made a mental note to work on convincing him.

Pittsburgh won 5-1 against the New York Islanders. The boys cheered at the top of their lungs when James scored at the beginning of the third period. When he returned to the bench he turned to us and flashed a grin before passing two game pucks over the glass. He was certainly making it a night they would remember. The whole ride home they chattered excitedly, highlighting the whole game and calling it the best night ever. I watched them and felt a pang of nostalgia for the days of my long past childhood. I’d forgotten what it was like to be that happy and carefree.  
He was just getting home when I headed back to my car after saying goodnight to the boys. He wore a perfectly tailored grey suit with a purple shirt, his hair just messy enough without looking sloppy and his bag hung over his shoulder. I admired the way he moved, watching from the doorstep. I could imagine his muscles moving under the tight fabric of the suit.

“Hey,” he called, catching me staring at him.

“Hi,” I smiled nervously. “Great game tonight.” I took a few steps towards him, stopping on the grass between the houses.

“Thanks, it looked like you guys were having fun.” He met me in the middle, standing a few feet from me.

“The boys loved it. Thank you for the tickets.” I tried not to blush but it was impossible around him. I hated the affect he had on me, the nervousness I felt in the pit of my stomach, the uncertainty in my voice.

“No problem,” he looked at his feet, then back up at me. “Are you heading home?”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I just dropped the boys off.”

“Do you… uh, maybe want to come in for a drink?” he stammered, looking at me nervously.

My pulse sped up and I could have sworn he’d heard my heart beating. “Sure,” I squeaked.

We sat side by side on his plush couch, two cold bottles of beer in front of us. I didn’t particularly like beer, but panicked when he offered me one. SportsCentre played in the background and the lighting was dim, casting shadows across his face.

“How’s school?” he asked, breaking the silence between us.

“It’s good,” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my pounding heart. “I really enjoy it.”

“That’s good,” he smiled, nudging closer to me. I could smell the clean aroma of his body wash. It tempted me to reach out and run my hand along his leg. But I resisted, clasping my hands together in my lap.

“When did you know you wanted to play hockey?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I’ve always known,” he smiled sweetly. “The first time I put on skates I knew I wanted to play in the big show. But I was about 14 when I got really serious about it. Practicing everyday, playing with other guys who wanted to make it. Honestly it’s still kind of surreal that this is my life, that I get paid to do the thing I love most.” He spoke with such passion and excitement, his eyes brightened and a genuine smile across his lips.

“It’s one of those one-in-a-million things isn’t it?” I studied the dreamy look on his face and noticed how soft his skin looked.

“It really is. I’m lucky to be that one,” he stretched his arm across the back of the couch and I found the confidence to move closer to him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, sending tingles up my spine. “Being traded to Pittsburgh was one of the best things to happen to my career,” he added quietly.

“I think moving to Pittsburgh might have saved me,” I admitted, turning away from him and gazing out the window.

“It has a way of doing that,” he said comfortingly. I appreciated his simple acceptance, I didn’t want to regret my confession or be forced to explain.

We sat quietly, watching the replays from the games that night. James in his suit and me with my head inches from his shoulder. I could feel my eyelids getting heavier but didn’t want to move from the comfort of his couch, the heat of his close proximity. My mind wandered but kept coming back to how comfortable he made me. All nerves aside he had a warmth about him that eased the loneliness within me. I didn’t mean to fall asleep so close beside him, but I woke up with my head on his chest and his arm around me, his shallow breathing soothing. I pretended to sleep for a few minutes, savouring the contact before standing up embarrassed. I hurried out, thanking him again for the tickets and mentally kicking myself for feeling so relaxed. No one wanted some random girl falling asleep on them.  
I lay in bed that night I couldn’t help but recall the feeling of my head on his chest. The smell of his warm skin engrained in my memory. I didn’t want to admit how at ease I felt touching him, how close we already seemed. I tossed and turned, kicking the blankets off in frustration. It was irrational to think he was doing any more than being nice. I had to force myself to be realistic and not be swept up in a frenzy of affection and infatuation. James Neal and I were simply new friends and would remain so, regardless of how quickly my heart sped up when he looked at me.

 

I met him on a Tuesday as I was leaving the darkroom. My portfolio was filled with newly developed images. Captured moments of my new life so far. Most of them were of the kids or the scenic downtown, I’d had an impossible time deciding which ones I wanted. I wasn’t due at Jessica’s for an hour and I was texting her to see if I she needed me to pick anything up on my way, when we collided with each other. Tubes of paint went flying from his arms and my pictures skidded across the floor.

“Shoot!” I heard a deep voice say before I could look up to see him. “I didn’t see you.” He bent down to pick up the mess of materials around us and my eyes met him. Big brown eyes surrounded by thick lashes. His face was angular, it reminded me of a sculpture. When he stood up straight he was nearly a foot taller than me, maybe more. I couldn’t tell, I was too focused on the beauty that radiated from him.

“I’m…sorry,” I stammered, joining him on the ground, collecting my pictures and handing him the brushes and pant tubes he’d dropped.

“I’m Leo,” he held out his hand after we’d organized ourselves.

“Colbie,” I shook it and smiled politely.

“That’s pretty,” he smiled, making the hair on my arms stand up. “Where are you headed?”

“Nowhere right now,” I glanced down at my phone, there were no new messages.

“Can I buy you coffee?” He was confident and relaxed. It surprised me how easily I said yes.

We sat at a table for two in the corner of a Starbucks in the next building. It was quiet and I sat sipping my tea carefully. He told me he was a painter and had grown up in Pittsburgh. He liked classical music and hated sports. I cringed as he told me hockey was his least favourite sport.

“It’s nonsensical violence,” he scoffed when I tried to tell him it wasn’t so bad.

“What is violence?” I posed the question,a a tiny part of me was mocking him, but I was enjoying the novelty of having someone to talk to.

“Good point,” he smiled and sipped his black coffee.

In my mind I knew everything about Leo was a cliche. From his paint splattered jeans to his plaid flannel shirt. He was the epitome of typical art student and I didn’t doubt that he would cause a few broken hearts in his lifetime, but that didn’t stop me from giving him my number.

“I’ll call you,” he smirked. He didn’t text. He didn’t believe in it. I couldn’t decide if that was incredibly romantic or pretentiously inconvenient.

The kids had a way of stealing my attention and making time feel like it was moving differently. I often found myself surprised to hear the front door open and Jessica come in. Somedays I’d stay and help with dinner, determined to learn how to cook. But most nights I wanted to get home and collapse on my bed, exhausted.  
On Wednesday I logged into Skype out of habit before placing the pin on my record player and sitting on the floor with my homework. I had an art history mid-term coming and the idea made me sick. I was far from ready and worried I would never understand the concepts I was expected to regurgitate on my exam. I wanted to scream and send my textbook flying through the air from my fourth storey window when I noticed an incoming call on my computer. Relieved, I sprang to my feet and answered it. My sister’s smiling face appeared on the screen and I felt a sense of relief.

“How are you?” she grinned, the image of her a little fuzzy but better than nothing.

“Tired,” I groaned. “I’m not used to being back in school.”

“No kidding.” she laughed. “Mid-terms got you down?”

“You have no idea,” I pushed my hair out of my face and slumped my head in my hands

“Oh I do. There’s only two ways to get through midterms,” she took a drink from something in a coffee mug. “Get drunk or get laid,” she giggled and winked.

“Great,” I sighed. “Two things I can’t do in this country.”

“I wasn’t aware you had to be twenty-one to fuck in America,” she raised her eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t know,” I rolled my eyes.

“No one has caught your eye?

“I didn’t say that,” I blushed and avoided looking at her.

“Oh? Please go on,” she sipped from the mug again, holding it with two hands.

“It’s nothing really.” I shook my head. “I just had coffee with this guy yesterday, but I don’t think it’ll go anywhere.”

“Why not? Is he a weirdo?”

“Kind of, but not in a bad way.”

“What about your superstar crush?” she looked concerned, but still smiled.

“Oh that’s not going to happen.” I sighed, resigned to the feeling of defeat.

“Did something happen?” her brow crinkled.

“No, nothing really. I took the boys to his game. He’s so sweet but I know he has girls all over him.” I buried my hands in my face, frustrated and trying not to tear up. I didn’t like to think about the female attention James likely attracted.

“I guess. Did he ask you to go to the game?” Mallory knew all the right questions to ask.

“Yeah but it was just for the boys, I don’t want to get attached.” I didn’t want to talk about him or think about it. The more I thought about James the more I wanted to know him. To sit with and learn everything there was to know about him. I wanted to take pictures of him and capture his easy going smile and the shine in his eyes. In a way I wanted to be furniture in his exciting and ever changing life- study everything about him.

“Whatever you say,” she gave me a weird look. “I just want you to make the best of your years.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I gave her a weak smile. “How about you? How is Toronto?”

“It’s good, Same old, same old, but it’s good.”

I managed to keep her distracted from bringing up James for the remainder of the conversation. How could I explain that nothing had happened but still I felt hopeless? The last thing I wanted was to become interested in someone who was way out of my league.

 

True to his word, Leo called. I was sitting in the living room having just put Ruby down for a nap. I had a few hours before the boys would be home and I fell into the couch ready to pass out. I’d stayed up half the night on Skype with Mallory and had spent the better part of the day yawning

“Colbie,” he said when I answered the phone, forcing myself to wake up.

“Hi Leo,” I said sleepily. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Colbie.” I had no idea why he kept repeating my name. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” it was awkward talking to him without seeing his body language. His voice was unusually stiff and unreadable.

“Look, I was calling to see if you were free weekend? There’s a gallery opening downtown. I’d like it if you came.” That same confidence returned. No hesitation, as if he knew I would say yes.

“Sure,” I croaked.

“I’ll pick you up at seven on Friday night.” He said certainly.

I hung up and texted Mallory. She replied with a line of smiley faces.

 

Riley and I sat at the kitchen table doing our homework when Jessica came home that night. She looked frazzled and exhausted, more so than usual. Her once tight bun had begun to droop like her heavy eyelids. She snuck up the stairs before the kids could see her and came back down a few minutes later wrapped in her warm sweater and yoga pants.

“How was your day?” she asked me, kissing the top of Riley’s head.

“Good,” I closed that Art History textbook I was still studying. “He’s almost done his homework, I wish I could say the same for myself,” I smiled tired and underwhelmed by the book in front of me.

“I took that class in my first degree, brutal.” She ran her hands through Riley’s hair, pulling it out of his face. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Sure,” I smiled weakly. I couldn’t stomach the idea of returning to my empty apartment and spending the night alone. Not when I had so much on my mind and nothing to distract me. I couldn’t get used to the stillness in my tiny apartment, the silence, it was so unbelievably lonely. I missed the warm hum of conversation in my childhood home, the patter of footsteps down the hallway and Aoife’s tiny hands slapping against my door. Always someone to talk to, even when you’d rather not. I missed my mother’s constant questions and my father’s knowing smile. Being separated from a family unit made me feel more cold and lost than I could have ever imagined.

“Can you chop the potatoes?” Jessica asked, glazing chicken breasts in a brown sauce.

“Is your husband coming for dinner?” I copped the potatoes into careful cubes, leaving the skin on.

“No,” she sighed. “He usually doesn’t get in until after we’ve gone to bed.” I could hear the hurt in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, dropping the hunks of potato into the pot. “That must be hard.”

“It is, but you get used to it. He loves his job and I love him,” she shook her head frustrated. “Despite all his travelling and emotional distance, I still hold out hope that he’ll come home to us. Sometimes I think it’s more trouble than it’s worth, but how do you up and leave someone you’ve been with for so long?” She wiped eyes with the back of her hand, I could see tears spilling over. “Sorry,” she sniffled. “It’s been a long week.”

I smiled sympathetically and searched for something comforting to say. I couldn’t come up with anything suitable, instead I placed my hand on hers and hoped it helped.

“Look at me falling apart in the kitchen,” she laughed, fanning at her eyes. “Tell me about you, how’s James?” She turned to put the chicken in the oven.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I mumbled.

“You don’t talk to him?”

“Not since the night he asked me to go to the game,” I shrugged. “It’s no big deal, we’re just acquaintances.”

“That’s too bad,” she leaned against the counter. “He’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, he is.” I put the pot on the burner and set it to boil. “Do you mind if I leave my car here tomorrow night?”

“Sure, what do you have planned?” She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine then took glasses from the cupboard and filled them near the top.

“I met this guy,” I bit my lip and took the glass she offered. “He wants to pick me up at seven but I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to make it home.”

“A guy?” She sipped her drink and looked at me excited. “What’s his name? What’s he like?”

“Uhm, his name is Leo, we met a few days ago when I walked directly into him. He’s… nice I guess.” I said hesitantly.

“Where is he taking you?”

“Some art gallery thing, he’s a painter.” I took a long drink of the chilled wine.

“Sounds romantic,” she winked.

“I guess. I’m trying not to have any expectations.” I admitted.

“That’s smart, but don’t be too hesitant, there’s nothing wrong with a little romance.” She winked.

I laughed and tried not to think about what she’d said. Sure, there was nothing wrong with romance, but it wasn’t something I wanted to put too much focus on. Leo seemed nice, but I wasn’t ready to start planning our wedding. I couldn’t help but wonder if we would even last more than one date. It seemed impossible as James’ smiling face ran through my mind for the thousandth time that day.


	5. Chapter 5

“You look lovely,” Leo said for the third time in an hour. My fingers laced between his, he led me around the crowded gallery, pointing out different pieces and occasionally stopping to study them. Having grown up in a city that undervalued art, I was surprised by the large turn out. While most of the patrons were obviously upper class, well bred, business people over the age of fifty, there was a handful of young, fresh faced artists circulating the room. All of whom seemed to know Leo. We couldn’t go two steps without someone stopping him. The conversations all seemed the same, an obnoxious hello, vague conversation about vapid aspects of their lives, a few names dropped, and the promise of getting together sooner rather than later. As lonely as I’d felt during my first month in Pittsburgh, after watching the repetitive interaction I was incredibly thankful for my limited local rolodex. I could move about the city freely without bumping into anyone and being trapped by small talk and disingenuous interaction.   
“The art world is a very small community,” he told me, after introducing me to the third long haired acquaintance in oversized glasses and skinny jeans. “Meeting people is the best way to make your mark.” He squeezed my hand, then dropped it to grab two glasses of champing from the passing tray. I noticed for the first time that he didn’t look much different from the people he’d been introducing me to, his brown corduroy blazer was worn and a size too big, his hair slicked back away from his face. He was undoubtably beautiful, but I couldn’t tell if he tried far too hard, or not nearly enough.   
“Where do you want to take your career?” he asked, sipping from the delicate glass in his hand. I’d already finished the majority of mine in one gulp.   
“What do you mean?” I tried to gather information from his facial expression but he was impossible to read.   
“What do you want to do with your talent?” he ran his fingers gently down my arm. We were hidden in a quiet corner of the room, away from the high transactions and vocal art critics.   
“I want to take pictures,” I said simply, eyeing the area for a saviour with a tray of champaign.   
“Of course you do,” he brushed his thumb over my cheek affectionately. “But do you want to take pictures of people’s children for the rest of your life, or do you want more?”   
I shot him a confused look and wondered how he knew what my newest portfolio consisted of.   
“I saw your prints when you dropped them,” he answered without my asking, winking for good measures.   
“Oh,” I said flatly. “I enjoy my subjects, but I suppose if I could aspire to anything it would be to shoot regularly for Vogue.” I polished off my glass and set it on the window sill beside me.   
“Really Colbie?” Leo gave me a look of disapproval and I picked up the glass again, my stomach tightening uncomfortably and my skin feeling warmer than before. “Of all the things you could do with your talent you want to shoot for a vapid, capitalist, rag?”   
I frowned and excused myself to the washroom, finding a server and taking a glass of bubbly liquid in each hand with me. I wondered, as I sat locked in the bathroom stall, if I was so out of practice in the dating scene that I was being sensitive. Surely things couldn’t have changed that much in the few years I had dedicated to one night stands and failed self improvement. I sat consuming the the contents of the glasses at an alarming rate, relishing the fact that I hadn’t had to pay for them. Of the few men I’d been with, none of them had been as forthcoming and bold as Leo. I thought fondly of my high school boyfriend, Ben and his reserved demeanour. Ben’s quiet confidence and gentle approach was what had attracted me to him, his lopsided grin and hesitant speech kept me with him for years. The qualities I admired in my once best friend were the exact ones I found Leo lacking. So far it seemed that any grace he may have had was violently overpowered by his pretentious confidence and limited mindset. I’d known him for less than a week and already I could feel the smothering affect of his superiority complex. I swallowed the last drop of champaign and in the interest of being open minded, promise myself I’ll give him another chance before running away screaming.   
“I hope you weren’t offended by my observation, Colbie,” I came face to face with him as I emerged from the safety of the bathroom.   
“Not at all,” I smiled politely, noticing I was beginning to feel light headed in the wonderful way I’d been searching for.   
“I just think the world puts far too much emphasis on things like fashion and the media. Who are those magazines helping?”   
Me when I beat you with one. I thought, biting my tongue and nodding with the same tight smile still plastered on my lips. “I find it interesting,” I replied calmly, feigning disinterest and reaching for another glass as the tray passed.   
“I suppose it is always an adventure to see how the other half lives,” he smiled and took my free hand in his. I tried not to pay much mind to his statement, it made little sense considering he was obviously far from the poverty line and while his look said starving artist, his Fred Perry shoes and Pendleton shirt told a different story. I wondered bitterly if he was on a first name basis with the staff of American Apparel and tried to keep a straight face.   
I opened my mouth to reply, but was fortunately interrupted by another messy haired, Edie Sedgwick wannabe in high tops. She whispered something in his ear and they both laughed obnoxiously. I watched her place her hand on his chest and I felt like an unwelcome voyeur, watching their intimate moment.   
“This is my date, Colbie,” he finally introduced me.   
“She’s lovely, Leo,” the girl smiled up at him, as if I wasn’t there.   
“Colbie is a photographer,” he grinned.   
“How adorable,” she purred. “Do you have your own Facebook page?”   
“No,” I sputtered, taken aback by her question. “I prefer film.”   
“How kitschy,” she replied and I looked to Leo, hoping he’d interject. Instead he stood smiling, watching this complete stranger mock me so delicately that should I protest I’d be the one overreacting. My first real introduction to what he affectionately referred to as ‘the art world.’  
After dropping me off and pressing his lips tenderly against me, I watched Leo drive away from Jessica’s front lawn. It was just past midnight and too late for me to go inside in search of a conversation. Instead I stumbled to my car and crawled into the front seat, slipping my shoes off and tossing them in the backseat. I’d had five drinks too many and no way to get home. Everything felt fuzzy and bright at the same time. Resigning myself to sleeping in the car I rest my head against the steering wheel and closed my eyes, searching desperately for sleep. Instead my mind drifted to the events of the night; the crowd of art aficionados in their overpriced clothes and smug looks, Leo’s comments and the feeling of my hand in his. It wasn’t all bad, the champaign was good and the art was inspiring, but more than that despite his arrogance I was wildly attracted to Leo. Convinced there had to be more to him I was intrigued by the parts I had yet to see. Admittedly a great deal of my interest in Leo was of a sexual nature, he was hot and I wanted him in ways I hadn’t had in a long time. Artist costume aside I knew underneath the faded t-shirts and skin tight pants was someone worth being with emotionally and physically, I just needed to find a way to get under the persona.   
I was startled out of my day dream involving Leo and a shower by a soft tapping on the window. Hoping it wasn’t any law enforcement I lifted my head slowly and tried to appear sober. Instead of a cop I found James leaning down to peer in the window, still dressed in his post game suit.   
“Are you okay?” he asked as I rolled down the window.   
“Yes,” I blushed, pawing at my flushed face.   
“What exactly are you doing?” he rest his arm on the roof of the car, smirking.   
“Sitting,” I stammered. “I… can’t drive.”   
“You’re drunk,” he grinned, breaking into boyish giggles.   
“No!” I cried defensively, the world spinning around me. “Maybe a little.”   
“You wanna come in? Or would you rather sleep in your car?” he smirked, cocking an eyebrow.   
“Inside would be nice,” I hiccuped and looked up at him with bleary eyes.   
He opened the door and held out his hand to pull me up. I stood shakily, staggering a few steps then falling into his waiting arms.   
“I’m sorry,” I giggled, blushing furiously. “It was really good champaign.”   
“And how much of the really good champaign did you have?” he asked, helping me back to his house. The road was cold under my bare feet but I couldn’t feel the rocks digging into my heels.   
“Not that much, like seven glasses? But they were small!” I rest my head against him trying to bite back giggles.   
“That’s more than a whole bottle,” he teased, helping me up the steps.   
“Nooo!” I stared at him in shock. I’d had no intention of getting drunk, it was just something to do while Leo prattled on about art and introduced me to people I’d never see again. It was so good, and so free.   
James helped me into the living room where I plopped onto the couch giggling uncontrollably. Nothing was funny, but everything seemed hilarious. I’d spent my night with a beautiful pretentious date and somehow found myself in the home of a beautiful athletic fantasy. My life in Edmonton was nothing like this. There I’d found myself settling for average looking trades workers, searching for a good night. I’d have never imagined being in the same room as someone like James Neal, let alone laying on his couch.   
“Here, drink this,” he came in holding out a large glass of water to me. I took it from him and pressed the glass against my lips taking a few gulps before forgetting what I was doing and spilling most of it onto my dress.   
“Shit!” I cried, the cold water trickling down my chest, having an unwelcome sobering affect. I tried unsuccessfully to brush the water from the black fabric but instead made it worse, my chest and lap soaked from my own stupidity. “I’m such an idiot,” I sighed defeated, sitting on the couch looking up at James who was trying not to laugh.   
“Do you want to take your dress off?” His voice was hesitant, he stood awkwardly at the end of the couch. I bit my lip and willed my mind not to go there. Not to imagine James tugging gently on the zipper positioned between my shoulder blades, pushing the dress over my shoulders and down my arms. I tried not to think about his strong hands on my bare skin, his warm breath on the back of my neck. I wanted to turn around and press my body against him, run my hand through his hair and feel the muscles under his shirt. Instead I just stared at him.  
“Like to dry?” I squeaked.   
“Yeah, I can get you something to wear,” he motioned towards his bedroom door on the other side of the living room.   
“Thank you,” I croaked, biting back the urge to comment about him getting me out of my dress so quickly. He disappeared and came back holding a sweatshirt and shorts.   
“You can change in the bathroom,” he handed them to me and smiled awkwardly.   
I stumbled into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Considering my condition I looked pretty good, hair slightly out of place and makeup a bit smudged, but presentable. Remembering what I was supposed to be doing I reached back to unzip my dress, my clumsy fingers couldn’t reach the tiny zipper and after a few attempts I gave up, instead trying to pull the dress over my head. Two uncoordinated tugs and the waist was around my shoulders, pulling a little harder I tripped over my own feet and landed with a thud on the cold tiled floor, my arms around my ears and the thick black fabric suffocating me. I considered the idea that I might never be freed from the tight grip of my form fitting party dress and imagined the obituary. ‘Colbie O’Connor, 20, drank too much really good champaign and was found dead in the bathroom of hockey player James Neal. It is believed that she was killed by a killer little black dress. Family speculates the death may have been from humiliation, reports show suffocation. Colbie is survived by her camera and collection of undervalued vinyl albums. She will be missed by all the rig pigs in Alberta.’   
I refused to go in such an undignified way! I would not die before seeing him shirtless, it couldn’t end like this. I struggled to break free from the damp, restricting dress but like a Chinese finger trap, the harder i fought the more trapped I felt. I knew what I needed to do. Better to humiliate myself once than end up on 1,000 ways to die.   
“Jaaaammmmeeessss,” I whined from my spot on the floor. It felt like hours and he hadn’t replied, light headedness washed over me, dehydration setting in I tried to suckle the liquid from the fabric in front of me, my captor, but instead got a mouth full of cotton.   
“Mr. James Neal?” I tried again. “Sometimes I hear you’re called The Real Deal, I really need you right now.” Moments past and finally I heard him chuckling from the door.   
“What did you do?” he roared with laughter.   
“I’m stuck and I’d really rather not die this way,” I sputtered.   
I felt him walk around me and crouch behind me. “I’ll never be used to girls laying half naked screaming my name,” he teased, pulling down the zipper and freeing me from my fabric prison. He helped pull the dress over my head and I let out a sigh of relief as it hit the floor beside me.   
“Freedom,” I moaned, standing up and reaching to the wall for support. I turned to face him, he was grinning, face red from laughter and eyes wide and enchanting. “How long were you standing there?” I scowled and grabbed a hand towel to cover my nearly naked body.   
“I heard you fall, do you always leave the door open at other people’s houses?” he eyed the towel in front of me and smirked.   
“No!” I blushed. “Do you always invite strange girls into your home late at night?”   
“Only when they’re at risk of freezing,” he winked and headed for the door. “I like the ducks by the way,” he pointed to my lower half and I looked at him confused, until I realized I was wearing my rubber duckie underwear. Laundry day had me again. 

“So where did you go tonight?” James asked as we sat side by side on the couch, Sports Centre playing in the background.   
“I was on a date,” my head flopped back on the couch I turned to face him.   
“You were on a date and you ended up at my living room?” he looked at me amused. “Was it that bad?”   
“I can’t decide,” I admitted. “I don’t know if it was a bad date or if he’s just different from what I’m used to.”   
“Well what are you used to?”   
“Not dates with painters to places that serve free booze,” I laughed, not wanting to admit that dates weren’t exactly my forte.   
“You going to see him again?” he took drink of his Gatorade.   
“Maybe,” I shrugged. “He’s not bad looking.”   
“Well if he’s good looking what else matters?” he chuckled.   
“He thinks hockey is mindless violence,” I rolled my eyes.   
“What is violence anyway?” he wrinkled his brow.   
“That’s what I said!” I cried.   
“He sounds like a pylon,” James wrinkled his nose and shook his head.   
“Yeah well, you can’t have everything,” I sighed and snuggled into the oversized hoodie I was wearing.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up to the feeling of hard tile under my face, my body laid awkwardly around the toilet. The sweater I’d borrowed from James was draped over my bare shoulders and the shorts twisted around my body. I opened my eyes slightly then, experiencing a sharp pain strike inside my head, slammed them shut again, groaning in agony. I tried to recall my last memory of the night before but my mind was far too foggy to comprehend anything but the vile taste in my mouth. Unwilling to open my eyes i moved my hands across the floor, hoping to find a glass of water, instead my hand fell on fabric. A warmth radiating from the solid object.   
“You’re awake,” I heard him say, his voice low and thick with sleep. Alarmed, my eyes sprung open and I was once again greeted by a sharp pain. James sat next to the toilet with his back against the wall and his legs spread out in front of him. His hair was tousled from sleep and little purple circles and developed under his eyes.   
"Unfortunately," I groaned and buried my head in my hands. Hangovers were in no way foreign to me but that didn't make the pain anymore bearable. "Why are we in the bathroom?" I asked, careful not to move my head.   
"You fell asleep after puking for an hour," he said flatly.   
"Shit, really?" I turned slowly towards him and opened one eye just enough so I could see him.   
"Yeah, we were watching Sports Centre and you ran into the bathroom so I came in after you and we haven't left since," he ran his hands through his hair and yawned.   
"So what about the sweatshirt that I'm not wearing?"   
"You insisted it would be unladylike to puke on my clothes, so you took it off," he chuckled.   
"Oh good, I was worried I wouldn't be ladylike while vomiting in the bathroom of a man I hardly know," I groaned and slowly sat up, careful to cover myself with the sweatshirt.   
"Gotta respect a ladylike drunk," he teased and stood up, stretching before leaving the bathroom.   
"I'm sorry about last night, I didn't mean to impose," I called to him and pulled the sweatshirt over my head.   
"Don't worry about it," he came back holding a glass of water. "I didn't have anything planned."   
I drank the water quickly and studied his face. He looked tired, but his eyes were still alert and bright blue. A thin layer of stubble had appeared along his jaw and for some reason I wanted to run my hands along it, nuzzle my cheek into his. I resisted and instead finished the water and smiled politely.   
"So now that you've seen me violently upchuck, can I buy you breakfast?" I asked getting to my feet slowly.   
"It wasn't violent so much as gory," he laughed.   
"What is violence anyway?" I winked, remembering our conversation before the vomiting.   
"Good point," he grinned. "Do you plan on wearing my clothes to this proposed breakfast?"  
"Don't all the drunk girls you rescue wear your oversized clothes out the next morning?" I looked at my haggard reflection in the mirror and hoped he'd seen worse.   
"They don't usually stay the night," he joked, leaning against the doorframe.   
"I feel really special right now," I tried to roll my eyes but was met by more concentrated head pain. I turned on the tap and tried to scrub some of the remnants of the night before off of my face.   
"Well I don't have any plans today, so if you wanted to stop by your place and change we could," he suggested.   
I took mental stock of my apartment, trying to remember if I'd left anything embarrassing laying around before answering. I couldn't remember anything and to be fair, James had spent the night with me shirtless and puking so embarrassing myself was the least of my worries now. 

It took him an alarmingly long time to get ready, he insisted on showering and spending twenty minutes in front of the mirror diddling around with the shaggy mop of hair on his head. When we finally got to my apartment it was clear our breakfast was going to be more of a lunch. I unlocked the door, praying I wouldn't find I'd left the place in total disarray. Fortunately it was presentable, unfortunately I'd dumped my bra drawer on the bed in search the perfect lift and comfort and we were greeted by a pile of undergarments. The thing about my apartment was that it wasn't so much a one bedroom as it had one bedroom, the same bedroom that was also the living room, and the office, and the dining room. It was what Mallory called 'a multi purpose space.' I walked into the apartment ahead of him and pushed the bras off of the bed, kicking them into the closet and closing the door.   
"It's kind of small," I apologized, fluffing the pillows on the bed and offering him a place to sit.   
"It's nice," he smiled politely, and sat on the edge of the bed.   
"It's cheap," I laughed and walked over to the record player, flicking the on button and placing the needle on the fifth track of the B side. The bass line echoed through the speakers and I smiled to myself as I pulled clothes out of the closet; a grey sweatshirt and a pair of dark wash jeans. James stayed on the bed, looking around curiously while I got dressed in the bathroom. I managed to get the rest of the make up off my face and quickly brushed new mascara on. My red curls were wild and matted from a night spent on the floor. I ran my hands under the tap and tried to calm them before running a comb through the mass. Unsuccessful, I pushed my hair back with a hairband and hoped for the best. There was no doubt I looked better the night before, drunk or not.   
"What exactly are we listening to?" James asked hesitantly when I emerged from the bathroom.   
"Jefferson Airplane," I eyed him suspiciously. I was suspicious of anyone who wasn't familiar with the song that inspired the title of bestselling, albeit fake, diary 'Go Ask Alice.'   
"Who?" he crinkled his brow as if trying to pin point a single sound in the song.   
"Grace Slick, Marty Balin, later became the less amazing Jefferson Starship..." he stared at me blankly, obviously without any clue what I was talking about.   
"Nope," he shrugged.  
"Are you serious right now?" I walked back to the bathroom to brush my teeth.   
"Dead serious," he laughed. "I have absolutely no idea who any of those people are."   
"Really, James?" I came out of the bathroom, brushing my teeth at the same time. "I'm kind of disgusted with you right now," I admitted, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth.   
"Sorry," he chuckled. "I don't listen to druggie music."   
I rolled my eyes and went back into the bathroom to rinse out my mouth. "It's not druggie music," I returned to my bedroom/living room/parlour. "It's classic psychedelic rock."   
"So acid trip music," he teased.   
"Just stop," I shook my head exasperated and grabbed my camera and purse from the counter.   
"Why are you bringing your camera? Are you secretly paparazzi? Trying to catch me in my element so you can sell the pictures for millions?" he looked at me smirking.   
"If pictures of you were worth millions I would have cashed in and moved out of this dump," I scoffed and escorted him out the door. 

"So I've been meaning to ask you," James began, sitting across from me in a small booth in the corner of a cozy diner. "How exactly did you end in Pittsburgh?"   
I looked up from my menu and tried to think of an appropriate answer. I knew what the truth was, but he didn't need to. "I told you, I got into university here," I answered simply and took a sip of my water. My head was still tender and every part of me was dehydrated.   
"Right," he went back to studying his menu. "It's just that you said the other night that moving here saved your life, and I was curious..." he let his voice trail off.   
"It's nothing exciting," I smiled stiffly. "I just didn't have much going on in Edmonton." James may have seen me physically exposed, but I wasn't about to start spouting off about my past.  
"Okay," he smiled, almost knowingly, and dropping the subject. I let go of the breath I was unintentionally holding and tried to decide what to order.   
"So if you don't appreciate psychedelic rock, what do you listen to?" I asked, shifting the focus of our conversation.   
"Mostly country," he shrugged. "Some rock. Kind of depends on the day."   
"Country?" I smirked, impressed. I'd expected him to say gangster rap or radio played hip-hop. Country I could do. It wasn't my favourite, but it was tolerable.   
"Yeah," he chuckled. “You really have low expectations of me,” he fluffed his hair with his hand and flashed me a toothy lopsided grin.   
“I don’t like being disappointed,” I shrugged and focused my eyes on the wall behind him, it was easier than looking at him. It wasn’t that he was bad too look at, quit the contrary, the smooth plains of his face were inviting and I wanted to run my tongue over the solid angle of his jaw. His hair was begging to have my fingers tangled in it and his lips, I could spend days studying his lips. So it was safer if I avoided looking him, lest I lose my self-control and get sucked in by his liquid eyes. 

I didn’t see James again for over a month. According to Reilly, my personal source for Penguins related information, they were on a road trip at some point during those weeks. I tried not to give any attention to the aching feeling in my stomach when his name came up in conversation or on the radio. It was a waste of time to pine over him and with a constant stream of assignments from overzealous professors, I didn’t have the time to waste. Leo however did. It was beyond me how he could be in his third year and still have time to sit on my bed distracting me while I studied. We’d gotten into a strange but comforting routine. He’d come over after his shift at the local/organic/fair-trade coffee shop, smelling like burnt coffee -of course- and prattling on about the inspiring homeless man he saw on his way or the game changing idea that came to him while pouring someone’s half calf-extra whip-three pumps of hazelnut coffee. When he’d finished telling me every detail of his day he’d make himself comfortable on the bed and critique whatever piece I had laying around. I’d listen half heartedly, taking nothing he said to mind and nodding along to appease him. After a few hours of mindless chatter and unsuccessful reading we’d fool around, then I’d send him home. I’d reasoned that if Leo didn’t sleep over we were nothing serious, so every night I’d roll my eyes while he whined about leaving the warm bed.   
I didn’t see my arrangement with Leo as settling. Not at all, because while he was pretentious and somewhat irritating, he was also interesting and motivating. Whether I was willing to admit it or not, his critiques and knowledge of the art world pushed me to work a little harder. He wasn’t an accomplished artist in the traditional sense, but he had an in that I didn’t, an in that I might eventually need. I was by no means using Leo. Our relationship was completely symbiotic. I got his connections, he got my company, and we both got sex. And it was good, the sex as well as the symbiosis. 

The first week in November I noticed a new friend request in the corner of my Facebook homepage. I unsuspectingly clicked, assuming it was a classmate or one of the people I’d been introduced to at the most recent gallery event Leo had dragged me to. My friends list had nearly doubled since moving to Pittsburgh, it wasn’t that I had made many friends, rather I couldn’t decline anyone. I was a Facebook pushover. A sense of relief and excitement washed over me when I read the name, rather than some nom de plume adopted by an ex-suburban artist who emphasizes living in the real world, instead of someone I would end up deleting as soon as the year ended it was James Neal. James Neal wanted to be my cyberspace friend.


	7. Chapter 7

With James as a part of my social media world I became acutely aware of what I posted, taking care to craft witty, light hearted statuses and share links that would lead him to believe I was far cooler than I actually was. He’d occasionally ‘like’ something or respond with a somewhat vacant unspecific comment and each time I had a notification reminding me he saw me, I felt my stomach tingle and turn.   
My first American Thanksgiving was around the corner and according to Jessica it was going to be like nothing I’d ever experienced.   
“I’m from Canada, not Siberia. We have Thanksgiving,” I chuckled at her enthusiasm as we folded laundry while watching the post game interviews after a Penguins 3-2 win over Montreal. The kids had been asleep for over an hour and I was too comfortable in the warmth of the Jones house to consider going home.  
“Yeah, in October. It’s not the same. It’s an entirely different holiday and you’ll get to meet my husband. My parents are going to be there too, they’re dying to meet the girl who is virtually raising their grandchildren.” She tossed a tiny pair of socks into one of the baskets and grinned.   
“I’m not raising them, I’m just a constant positive presence. Like a kooky aunt or stray dog who camps out in your backyard.”  
“You might as well move into our backyard, are you ever actually home?” she gave me a curious look.   
“Of course I’m home… sometimes. Where do you think I sleep when I’m not on your couch?” I nudged her playfully and moved my folded pile of Jack’s t-shirts into his assigned basket.   
“I would have thought next door,” she looked at me with raised eyebrows then winked. “I would have hoped next door.”   
“Pshhh,” I threw my head back dramatically. “I’ve told you, there’s nothing going on there. It was one time and we slept on the bathroom floor.”   
“The bathroom eh?” Jessica wiggled her eyebrows up and down and shimmed her shoulders suggestively.   
“You’re my boss, why are we talking about this?” I shook my head and covered my blushing face with my hands.   
“It’d like to think I’m more than your boss, Colbie.” She patted my leg affectionately and her features softened. “You’re part of the family, which is why you’re going to be at Thanksgiving dinner.”   
“I’ll wear a pretty dress,” I rolled my eyes and smiled at her.   
“And bring a pretty boy?” She enquired.   
“No, he’s going to see his parents in Vermont, thank god. He’d probably stand up in the middle of the meal and denounce America, pointing out all the atrocities and hypocrisies in this tradition. Then he’d analyze the colour of your place settings and tell you how inspiring you are as a working woman with so many children.” My voice was getting louder with every word until I ended with a huff, frustrated without reason.   
“I thought James was from Ontario,” Jessica finally said after a lengthy pause. She looked genuinely confused and I couldn’t help but giggle at the image of James behaving anything like Leo.   
“I…I was talking about Leo,” I said regaining my composure.   
“Right, the painter guy. He sounds… special,” special was Jessica’s word for idiotic, weird, and occasionally insane. “What’s James doing?”   
“I have no idea, probably something with the team. Don’t they have games?”   
“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ and smirked. “They have a home game the next day.”   
“That’s nice,” I tried to avoid the question, averting my eyes from hers.   
“If you don’t ask him I will. And trust me, you’d rather he hear it from you,” the threatened light heartedly. I shuttered to think of what she’d say. Jessica was young enough to know the delicate balance of getting to know someone romantically, but old enough to see the importance of being frank.   
“Fineee,” I sighed and slumped back against the couch. “But he’s probably already got plans.”   
“I bet he’ll be home soon,” she pointed to the clock which read ten past eleven. I’d be suspicious of anyone else who knew the rough schedule of her neighbours, but Jessica was harmless. She’d also lived on the same crescent as hockey players for years and it wasn’t hard to know what they were doing when after a while.   
“I should go anyway,” I folded the last shirt in my pile and stood up, stretching my legs. “I have class in the morning.”   
“Okay,” she smiled up from her seat. “Thanks for your help.”   
“No problem,” I’d made my way to the foyer and grabbed my jacket from the closet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”   
“Have a good night,” she called from the living room.   
I noticed his car pull into the driveway and froze. I could either wait for him to go inside, standing like an idiot at the front door, clutching my purse. Or I could walk out at the same time as he got out of the car and find a way to strike up a conversation. I took a deep breath and settled on the latter, opening the door quickly and slipping into the cool air. I hurried down the steps and towards my car, the whole time wishing I had a remote starter. The leaves had fallen, leaving the trees bare and the streets dusty with crumbled foliage. I’d been expecting snow since October but was surprised to find the air crisp but the grass still visible. I definitely wasn’t in Northern Alberta anymore.  
“Colbie,” I heard James call to me in a stage whisper. I found his concern for late night noise levels endearing and a grin threatened my lips before I turned to face him.   
“Hey,” I called back casually.   
“How are you?” he dropped his bag beside the car and started walking towards me. He’d bravely forgone his winter coat and instead stood in the cool air wearing a black and grey plaid suit. I bit my lip and tried swallowed a giggle, but it escaped through my nose in a noisy puff of air, like an excited horse.   
“Nice game tonight,” I cleared my throat trying to cover up the embarrassing noise.   
“Thanks,” he blushed and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “You’re here late.”   
“Yeah,” I shrugged. “There was a hockey game on, I couldn’t risk missing it on the drive.” I was dangerously close to flirting and reminded myself to tone it down.   
“You watch a lot of games?” He shivered but continued to smile, watching me with his kind eyes.   
“When they’re on,” I tried to appear casual, perhaps slightly apathetic. I didn’t want him to know I watched all his games and interviews. Goose pimples started to form on my skin in response to the cold air, and likely his presence. I hugged my arms against my chest to capture my own body heat.   
“Let me know when you want tickets,” he was standing close enough to me that I could smell his sweet soap. “Like if you want to bring the kids or whatever.”   
“Thanks,” I shifted my weight between my feet and tried to keep warm. “So..uhm…” I began nervously. He looked at me interested, receptive to what I had to say. “You probably already have plans, but Jessica is hosting this Thanksgiving dinner and she… I was wondering if you wanted to come? I mean if you don’t have plans already.” My face was hot enough to melt the frost on the grass and I momentarily regretted my proposal.  
“That sounds great,” he smiled, flashing his surprisingly nice teeth. I wondered if they were real but didn't want to ruin the moment by asking. “Here, I’ll give you my number.” He held out his hand waiting for my phone and I took a second to study his face before digging it out of my pocket. He smiled hopefully, his cheeks and nose red from the crisp night’s air. He added himself to my contacts in the most casual way possible before texting himself from my phone then handing it back to me.   
“Thanks,” I blushed, thankful that he wouldn’t be able to differentiate the redness from blushing from the redness from the cold. “I’ll…uhm… let you know what time and stuff,” I stammered, chastising myself for sounding like a nervous school girl.   
We parted ways and I drove home with a growing excitement brewing in my stomach. A playful anxiety coursing through my veins. I had James Neal’s phone number to use when I pleased and I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Instead I logged into Skype as soon as I walked in the door, not even bothering to take my shoes off first.   
“You’re up late,” Mallory remarked after accepting my invitation to chat. Seeing her was comforting, even if it was through my dodgy internet connection.   
“I just got in,” I pulled off my jacket and tossed it on the bed.   
“And where were you?” She cocked an eyebrow and pretended to sound authoritative.   
“Oh y’know,” I shrugged and plopped down on my bed taking my computer with me.   
“Celebrating a win?” She winked suggestively and made a crude but hilarious hand gesture.   
“You bet! There was underwear everywhere,” I played along and bit my lip dramatically.   
“Wait, really?” she broke character and crinkled her eyebrows together.   
“No,” I snorted. “I was folding laundry with Jessica. But you will be pleased to know that I now have a Mr. James Neal in my contacts… phone number and all!” I puffed up my chest in pride and looked to the side into the distance like a lion who had just conquered a gazelle, although I’d hardly consider James a gazelle.   
“I… I’ve never been so proud of you in my life,” she wiped a fake tear from her eye and a smile broke onto her face. “Promise me one thing?”   
“I can try,” I eyed her curiously.  
“Promise me you’ll tell me about it when you get him into bed. Like every detail. All the moles and freckles. I want to know it all.”   
“Oh good god Mal,” I cried. “You’re something else. I said I have his phone number not his letterman jacket.”   
“NHL players don’t have letterman jackets…” She raised her eyebrow and snickered.   
“Good night,” I rolled my eyes and waved before closing my computer and falling back onto the bed. It was no secret that I wanted to tell Mallory about every mole and freckle on James’ body, because that would mean I’d seen every mole and freckle. While I did my best to avoid noticing things about Leo, I wanted to create a detailed map of James and write a series of novels describing it all. Frustrated, I crawled under the covers and tried to push the thoughts from my tired mind. 

Two days before Thanksgiving and the night before Leo left to visit his parents I lay on the floor of his shared residence. Leo’s house was exactly how I’d imagined it would be: a giant crash pad with mismatched furniture and empty beer cans on every surface. He’d painted the living room walls, strange patterns and characters from floor to ceiling and a giant water bong displayed above the empty fireplace. I had to admit he was talented, but his decorating left something to be desired.   
“Are you going to miss me?” he sat down beside me, leaning against a worn out, dusty couch and taking my hand in his.   
“Sure,” I replied unenthusiastically, my hand as limp as my voice.   
“I’m going to miss you,” he kissed my palm.   
“It’s only a few days, I’m sure you’ll survive,” I tried to hide my sarcasm but the words came out with a bitter edge anyway.   
“I got the good shit!” One of his roommates burst into the room, interrupting the moment Leo had been trying to create. Three other grungy looking men came in behind him smiling and chattering excitedly. One of them wore thick glasses that I could see had no glass in them, but they all looked like dishevelled, less attractive version of Leo— tight jeans and all.   
“Sweet!” Leo grinned and dropped my hand and stood up to greet them. “You guys know Colbie?” he motioned towards me and I sat up slowly.   
“She in?” one of them asked, otherwise ignoring my presence.   
“Yeah man, she’s cool,” Leo nodded. Despite my baby face appearance I knew what they were talking about. It was the same conversation I’d heard time and time again, the organizing of group drug taking. For the first time Leo was right, I was cool and I was in.   
Leo placed the square of paper on my tongue as if it was a romantic act of intimacy, then kissed me obnoxiously. I didn’t make a habit of taking illegal substances, but I was no stranger to the feeling of my limbs going tingly and my mind drifting off to far away lands. It was a welcome escape and not long after the sloppy kiss I started to lose focus of everything around me, a hazy feeling taking over and my thought patterns shifting wildly. I could hear Leo and the other clones blabbering on about something inconsequential but was able to push them out of my consciousness. I stared at the ceiling and watched colour patters appear in the white stucco, the patterns turning into images and scenes before my eyes.   
I stood up suddenly, overwhelmed with the need to explore and touch things. I wandered down the hallway and noted the moving doorways, in the living room someone was screaming about the coffee table being alive and even in my altered state of mind I rolled my eyes at them. It wasn’t that I didn’t see things coming to life, I just didn’t need to yell about it. I knelt down to touch the carpet, the swirling pool like surface beneath me and wondered if I could swim in it. When my hand touched the bristly fibres I was disappointed that I couldn’t dive in. Shuffling further down I tried to find a portal in the floor but instead found the bathroom. Closing the door behind me I noticed the hard floor under my feet, I wouldn’t be able to swim in it. For some reason I flicked the light switch seventeen times. Each time was like an atomic bomb, a new awakening, fire works, in some twisted way I was controlling the sun and after turning it on with the seventeenth flick I decided It wasn’t fair to confuse everyone and moved my attention to the sink. The taps dripped a green slime that I could see filling the sink. I wondered if the slime would fill the room, the house and eventually the city, suffocating all of us and creating a new species. I was the only person who could stop this disaster and something told me the only way I could do this was to turn all the taps on. Quickly, I gripped the hot and cold dials and turned them all the way on. The bathtub felt like a world away, to get there I had to pass the mouth of an undistinguishable beast. A porcelain monster that glared at me with shiny eyes and larger than life teeth. I needed to tame it, dominate it. In a sudden act of courage I reached over the beast’s large body and pulled off its tail. Holding the surprisingly heavy and unexpectedly cold tail in my hand I watched the beast fade out. The tail fell from my hands in a thud and shattered on the lava like floor beneath me, pieces of it skipping across the surface. A few more steps and I was at the base of the mountain. I had one final step and after getting tangled in the air, which was far thicker than I’d imagined and took a great deal of yanking to escape from, I twisted the taps as hard as I could and a vibrant, life saving liquid poured out.   
Having saved the city, I quickly lost interest and left the loud bathroom in favour of Leo’s bedroom. Pushing the heavy door that seemed to be changing position I entered a room that seemed to made up entirely of technicolor clouds, ecstatic to find this wonderful land I couldn’t stop myself from sharing the good news with someone. I was John Cabot, an explorer who’d set off to find new land, only I’d found the coveted northwest passage. Letting my body fall backwards, the clouds caught me and I felt them cradle my body. I reached into my deep pockets, down to what I thought was my knees and pulled out my phone. I needed to tell him everything. He needed to know I’d found the perfect place for us.   
“Colbie?” his voice sounded miles away and I remembered I was in another land.   
“James,” I screamed, my voice was high pitched and echoed through our space. “James I found heaven,” I called to him, hoping he’d come to me. “James, I found a heaven!” I repeated. I wanted him to follow my voice and find me. To share my cloud and take my body.   
“Colbie where are you?” he said through my hand, each one of my fingers turning into his face.   
“James, I’m in heaven. I found a place for us.” I giggled and stared at the five tiny heads on the tips of my pale fingers.   
“Are you okay?” They all said at once.   
“I’m wonderful James! It’s all so wonderful! Come to the clouds with me,” I begged.   
“Where are the clouds Colbie? How did you get there?” His voice was booming and warm, he was the sun singing loudly to me.   
“I don’t know,” I looked around the clouds as they changed from pale blues to bright pinks. “I was at Leo’s, then I found them. It’s a miracle. They must have found me. Come to the clouds, James, you’ll like them!” I shrieked so my voice could reach the sun.   
“Tell me more about them,” his face grew bigger on my finger tips and continued to grow with every detail i shared. I told him about the colours and the warmth, the sound of the air around me and the emptiness waiting to be filled my him. I told him everything I could think of until I saw him fully in front of me. Glowing and radiating so brightly that I couldn’t look at him directly. Everything around him danced and swam through space and time, I took his hand and pulled him onto the cloud with me.   
“You’re the sun, in the clouds. You’re the sun in our land,” I told him and lay my head on his chest to feel the warmth of his fiery surface.   
“I am?” he laughed and shifted everything around us. The crashing sound waves leaving his mouth and moving over me.   
“Beautiful, beautiful sun. This is our heaven,” I grinned at him and closed my eyes, the sound of a clock inside him ticking in my ears. “Can we stay? Can we stay in our heaven?” I moved my hands along the soft surface of his body and was surprised that he was so, so soft.   
“We can stay as long as you want,” he pulled me closer and I could feel myself dancing, everything dancing on the surface of the sun.


	8. Chapter 8

“For the record, I don’t do that…often,” I looked across the bed at James who was leaning against the wall with his arms behind his head.   
“It’s none of my business if you do,” he chuckled and turned his attention from the TV to me. “I’m just glad you found the clouds.”   
“Shut up,” I tossed a pillow in his direction, it missed, landing on the floor across the room.   
“It was cute,” he turned to face me. “You were very enthusiastic.”   
“They were pretty unreal, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.” I looked passed him and remembered the dreamy trip that had brought me to where I was.   
According to James I managed to tell him Leo’s address after a few minutes of explaining the textures in the air. At my request he drove across the city to lay in a pile of dirty laundry with me, laundry that I swore were pink clouds taking us on an adventure. He lay listening to me until the clouds started to fade away and I wanted to find a better land. That land was his bed where we lay with my head on his chest until I came back to the real world around five in the morning.  
“That’s because they weren’t real,” he laughed and patted my leg patronizingly.   
“So disappointing,” I sighed and rolled onto my side so I was facing him. “Thank you for coming, you didn’t have to do that. I would have been fine.”   
“I know,” he rubbed his forehead, still smiling. “I did go to like, save you. I went because I wanted to. I like being around you, Colbie.” I could see the blush rise on his cheeks and he avoided my startled gaze. I must have been mistaken, it must have been the left over LSD in my system. There was no way James Neal had just said, out loud, that he liked being around me. There was nothing inherently wrong with me, but I couldn’t see why anyone would want to hang around me, especially not someone who could be around anyone they wanted.   
“You wanna say something?” he nudged me with his knee and chuckled nervously. The shock of his confession had left me speechless.   
“What should I say?” I asked nervously chomping down on my lower lip. The skin was already cracked from the cold weather and my post drug trip dehydration.   
“I don’t know? Maybe that you like being around me?” he smiled anxiously and reached for my hand, grasping the tips of my fingers loosely.   
“I thought that was obvious…” I watched his bright eyes studying my face. His jaw and cheeks were covered in a spattering of auburn whiskers.   
“Just because you call a guy the beautiful sun doesn’t necessarily mean you like him.” He rolled over so our faces were less than a foot away from each other, his fingers laced between mine with our hands resting on my hip.   
“Maybe not around these parts, but where I come from that’s a regular mating call,” I teased and leaned in closer to him.   
“You invite all the guys to your pink clouds?” he smirked which sent a wave of tingly aflutter in my stomach.   
“Never,” I nibbled on my lip and shook my head slowly. “Those rig pigs have nothing on you.”   
“What about certain acid dropping boyfriends?” I could see him holding his breath waiting for my reassurance.   
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I feigned innocence and bat my eyelashes at him.   
“I think you should dump the pylon,” his voice shook slightly and he squeezed my hand.   
“Why?” I pushed. I liked having him on edge.   
“Because I can’t rightfully kiss you when you’re dating another guy.” There was only a few inches between our bodies and I wanted to close the gap between us desperately. My body felt electric being so close to him, goosebumps on the surface of my skin and pangs of arousal shooting through me. I could smell his warm cologne and the unspecific but enticing aroma of man.   
“I’m not actually dating him,” I finally admitted after letting a few tense seconds pass  
“You’re not?” his eyebrows raised in surprise, wrinkles forming on his forehead.  
“No,” I laughed. “It’s never been anything serious. We just…” I could find the proper words to describe my relationship with Leo. I did like him, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t. I liked his enthusiasm and creativity. He always had something to talk about and had no problem shouldering the conversation, and I couldn’t complain about his body. Leo was a place holder for something more, a warm body to pass the time and give me what I needed.   
“Oh thank god,” he let go of my hand and pulled my body tightly against him. I shivered in excitement and my hormones were alive and begging for more. “Even if he was high as a kite when I met him that guy is an idiot.”  
“You met him?” My stomach churned, this time unpleasantly. The last thing I wanted was James interacting with Leo.   
“Briefly” he shrugged. “I was in the guy’s house, I had to at least introduce myself.”   
Of course he did, I held my breath and waited for him to continue. I wasn’t sure why I was nervous, but the idea of them talking made me nauseous. I didn’t want James to judge me on my poor taste in sexual partners.   
“He was rolling on the floor with another guy talking about some weird artsy shit and when I said hi he said he didn’t have time for neanderthals. Then he asked if I was a real person and when I said yes he told me that wasn’t possible because I’d sold my soul to the ‘man’. The whole time he was saying this the other guy was petting his stomach and giggling.”   
I groaned and tried to hide my face in the pillow, even on hallucinogenic drugs Leo was a stuck up jerk. I shouldn’t have expected anything more, but it was hard to explain the good I did see in him. Deep down, when I could get past his pretentious exterior and trendy babble, he was sweet and adventurous. He cared about things, a trait that was uncommon amongst the guys I spent my nights with back in Edmonton. But his body and his deep hidden personality traits weren’t enough to keep me around. I scolded myself for even thinking about Leo while James was holding me so close.   
“I swear I’m not actually with him,” I shook my head and slowly let my eyes meet his.   
“Good,” he whispered softy and before I could reply his soft, moist lips were pressed against mine. He kissed me with a gentle passion, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek and our lips moving together in a relaxed rhythm. He kissed just like I hoped he would, like I’d imagined time and time again. I could get lost him, easily forget the world around me and focus solely his tender touch and warmth. He didn’t try to move his hands lower, or move our bodies so they were closer, instead he tangled his fingers in my messy curls and kept his lips on mine. There was an innocence about the way his tongue moved against mine, it wasn’t rushed or needy. He seemed content to kiss me with his hands in my hair and mine on his chest. The men who came before him had always felt so forced, like kissing was just a way to get further, a duty required to get into my pants. But none of them mattered anymore, and none of them would matter again because as his lips massaged mine I knew there was no one in the world who could top him. 

I woke up with his head nuzzled against my neck and his arm draped over my stomach. The sun streaming through the cracks in the blinds and with the exception of his quiet breathing, the house was silent. Silence wasn’t something I was used to, my home in Edmonton had always been chaotic and loud, there were always muffled noises in my apartment coming from my still faceless neighbours, and Jessica’s house was far from quiet on the best of days. Silence was unsettling. He slept peacefully beside me, his eyelids fluttering but never opening and his lips parted slightly. I didn’t want to wake him, but I couldn’t stand the empty space around us. Carefully, I pulled my arm from his embrace and reached for my phone on the side table. It was nearly 2pm and I had three missed calls from Leo and a text message asking me to call him. Ignoring his request I went into my music and scrolled through until I found what I was looking for. I pressed play and lay the phone on the pillow beside me, waiting for the music to start.   
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun  
And I say it's all right  
Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter  
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

The words came out of the phone and rang through my mind. I couldn’t help but smile and it took everything I had not to dance along with the music. It wasn’t long before James’ eyelids fluttered open and he looked at me with clear blue eyes, he smiled and the skin around them wrinkled.   
“Good morning,” he croaked. His groggy voice made my stomach tighten and my pulse race. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes then stretching his arms into the air. “I like this song.”  
“Morning,” I smiled, watching him dreamily. I could tear my eyes away from his messy hair and sleepy face. His grey t-shirt hanging loosely from his torso and his pants twisted around his hips. I’d fallen asleep in a similar outfit, already well acquainted with his closet.   
“What time did we fall asleep?” he slipped his fingers between mine and squeezed my hand tightly.   
“About eight this morning?” I smiled weakly.   
“How are you feeling?” he brushed my hair from my face with his free hand then rest it gently against my damp forehead.   
“A little dizzy,” I answered honestly and rest my head against my shoulder. Usually I would have lied and told him that I was fine but the words came out of my mouth before I could think. “Everything feels a little off, but at the same time clearer. For some reason I still feel like I’m in the clouds, but I know I’m not and that they aren’t real.” I admitted.   
“Am I still the sun?” he teased, kissing the top of my head.   
“That’s what seems so clear,” I shifted so I could see his face. “It’s all so clear in my mind.”   
“What is?” he looked a little concerned, as if he was waiting for me to break his heart.   
“I just can’t shake the feeling that I need to be honest, completely honest about everything in the world,” the words poured out of me in a fast jumble. The ideas were coming so quickly.   
“Then be honest,” he squeezed my hand again, this time reassuring me that he was still beside me. “Tell me anything.”   
“I left Edmonton because I was going nowhere fast. I didn’t do anything there. Well nothing productive. I said I don’t do drugs often and I don’t, but I have before. It’s never been a problem, but I did it enough. I left because I kept watching the people around me fall into this vicious cycle of ups and downs and it was terrifying.” I paused, waiting for him to respond, it was his turn to break my heart.   
“Okay,” he smiled understanding that I had more to say.   
“I don’t think I’ve ever been the one people expects to do that sort of thing. I’ve never been a ‘good girl’ but I was always very good at hiding my harder side. I don’t want to feel bad for having fun in my past, but I worry that it will come back to haunt me.”   
“What do you mean?” he asked carefully.   
“I’ve slept with a lot of people,” I could feel my face getting hotter and I avoided his gaze.   
“And you think I haven’t?” he tried to hold back his laughter but failed miserably and grinned down at me laughing. “Honestly Colbie, if you think finding out that you aren’t a virgin is going to make me think less of you then I haven’t done a very good job of showing you how I feel.” He let go of my hand and cupped my face, leaning in and kissing me with a little more vigour than a few hours earlier. I let out a muffled moan and he moved a hand down and brushed it against my breast. I wanted to throw myself at him, rip off his clothes and meet his moles and freckles, but I let him take the lead and after a few minutes of his lips against mine he pulled away smirking.   
“I don’t care who you’ve slept with or what you’ve done. I want you. The person you are right now.” He looked at me with such sincerity that I thought I might melt right in front of him.   
“Want me how?” I asked sceptically. Pushing past my urge to melt and focusing on being realistic.  
“How do you think?” he chuckled. “Like ditch the pylon for good and be with me.”   
I stared at him then blinked hard, just to be sure this was real and I wasn’t still tripping. I shook my head a few times then opening my eyes again to see him watching me, amused.   
“You’re completely lucid, Colbie,” he reassured me.   
“Just making sure,” I blushed and looked down at my lap.   
He watched me fidget before taking my hands in his to me. “So?” he looked at me apprehensively.   
“Okay,” I finally said. I tried to keep a straight face, act cool, like it was no big deal that he’d just set my heart into overdrive no big deal. But it was, it was a huge deal and I couldn’t fight the smile that crept across my lips and took over my face. I let my body fall into his arms and pressed my lips excitedly against him, a sudden surge of energy overpowering the exhaustion that I’d previously felt. Happiness overwhelmed everything else I could possibly feel and for the first time since moving to Pittsburgh I knew I hadn’t made a mistake.


	9. Chapter 9

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” James called from my bed while I tried to fix my hair in the bathroom. After a mild make out session he remembered dinner plans he’d made with a few of the other players and of course extended the invitation. I couldn’t say no with his hand under my shirt.

“Yeah,” I replied over the music coming from the record player- Paul Simon telling us we can call him Al. 

“Because we don’t have to go if you’re still tired or whatever,” he appeared at the door and watched me apply my second coat of mascara. 

“I’m fine,” I assured him, finishing with the mascara and tossing the tube back into my make up basket. “I’m just not really sure what to wear to fancy hockey events,” I admitted gesturing to his standard dress pants and button up shirt. He looked classy and casual and I didn’t know if that meant this was a formal event or not. 

“Wear whatever is comfortable,” he shrugged, leaning against the door frame.   
I shot him a look of disbelief and shook my head before moving past him and making my way to my closet. 

“That wasn’t helpful was it?” he looked at me bashfully and smiled. 

“Not in the slightest,” I chuckled, pulling out a green cotton dress, a black skirt and three shirts. I wasn’t willing to admit it to him, but the idea of meeting his friends made me want to hide in a closet and breathe into a paper bag. We’d been official for less than four hours and already I was plunging into the glamorous world of professional sports. In my previous relationships I was stoked if the guy offered to buy me a coffee, fancy dinners weren’t even an option. 

“Wear the dress,” he motioned towards the clothes on the bed. “You look good in green.” 

“I do?” I asked surprised, my voice coming out high and nervous. 

“I think so,” he shrugged. I could see his cheeks reddening and gave him a thankful smile. I took the dress into the bathroom and left the door open a crack, the music had stopped and I could hear him flipping through my records. 

“So how are you like… going to introduce me or whatever?” I pulled my clothes off and slipped the dress on, walking into the main room for him to zip it up. 

“How do you want me to introduce you?” his hands on my back made me shiver and tingle all over. His fingers lingered at the base of my neck after pulling the zipper up. 

“Not as the girl who dropped acid last night?” I looked back at him hopeful. I didn’t expect he’d go around telling everyone about my exploits but I couldn’t be sure. Truth be told I had to remind myself that I didn’t really know what kind of person he was. Of course I had an idea, a basic map of him, but I couldn’t be sure.   
  “How about I use your name?” he smirked a wrinkled his nose playfully. 

"Super hot and smart? Man I got lucky with you," I teased and turned around, placing my hand gently on his chest. There was a glimmer in his eyes when he smiled at me, dimples forming and the skin around his eyes creasing. I couldn't pull my eyes away from his face, the thin layer of red tinted beard covering his jaw and upper lip accented his soft pale skin, adding another dimension to the already captivating dynamics of his appearance. 

 

The restaurant was a far cry from the diners i'd been frequenting and when we entered the dimly lit dining room, we were immediately greeted by a perky hostess. Without having to ask his name she led us to a private room where half of the team and their wives were seated at two tables. 

"James, James, James," a voice called as we made our way to two empty seats beside one of the only people in the room I recognized, Sidney Crosby. "So nice of you to join us," the voice belonged to one of the older team members, a dark haired man who was grinning at us.   
"You miss me or something, Duper?" James laughed and pulled out my chair, motioning for me to take a seat then slipping into his own. 

I was seated between James and a woman I could only assume was someone's wife. Her hair was pulled into a pony tail and her exposed arms were covered in tattoos. She was easily the coolest person in the room and as she turned to introduce herself I noticed her convex stomach. 

"You must Colbie," she smiled warmly. "I'm Bea." I recognized her now, she was the woman behind the bench at the home opener, the one Riley and Jack had thought couldn't be in hockey. Crosby’s rarely photographed new wife. I felt a flutter of pride when she said my name, because her knowing my name meant James had talked about me. 

"It's nice to meet you," I smiled back at her and subtly admired her ink covered arms, I noticed a green coloured pin up and a cluster of bumble bees and made a mental note to look into getting some of my own. 

"I guess someone is too busy with his little man crush on Duper to introduce you so I will," she laughed and reached across me to smack James on the back of the head. He looked at her shocked and pretended to be offended before grinning and rolling his eyes then turning back to the back and forth bickering with the dark haired man. 

"This is my husband Sidney," she lay her hand affectionately on his arm and smiled at him. Their feelings for each other were obvious and I could feel their mutual adoration radiating throughout the room. 

"It's nice to meet you," he held out his free hand to me and I shook it in amazement. I, like every other Canadian I'd met knew who he was, and the very idea of being in the same room as him made me slightly flustered. 

"You too," I managed to say, my eyes wider than they needed to be and my heart racing. By now James had turned his attention back to me and had his arm resting on the back of my chair. 

"How are you liking Pittsburgh?" Sidney asked and it dawned on me that James had done more than just mention my first name, he'd actually told them about me. 

"So far so good," I smiled and nodded, taking a drink of the water that had been placed in front of me. Before I could say any more, Bea reached behind me and grabbed a tall blonde boy who'd been walking past us. He couldn't have been much older than me and looked like every popular boy I'd ever seen in a made for TV movie set in a high school. 

"Hey," he looked down at us with a toothy smile. "I didn't see you there." 

"Because I blend in so well," Bea rolled her eyes and let go of his arm. 

"How's it going, bud?" the blonde haired boy turned his attention to James and clapped him on the back playfully. 

“Not bad, big guy.” James turned in his chair to face him, grinning without removing his arm from my chair. “This is Colbie,” he introduced me and I noticed his grin turn into a sort of smirk. 

“Damnit!” the blonde, who I still hadn’t been properly introduced to, cried and pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and began leafing through a stack of green bills. 

“I told you she was real,” James hissed as the blonde handed a stack of bills to the dark haired man. I could see the redness growing in James’ cheeks. I looked at them confused, not sure if I should be offended or amused. 

“I believed you, Jame,” the man said, counting the bills and smiling. 

“Colbie, this is Beau and that’s Pascal,” Bea introduced the two gamblers, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Don’t take it personally, they bet on everything. Last time I checked there was a $2,500 wager on the basement bits of my unborn child.”

“Hello” The man I learned was Pascal smiled and shoved the bills in his pocket. 

“Nice to meet you,” Beau said with a wave and a bashful look. I smiled at them both and sat with my hands awkwardly in my lap while the guys continued to talk and Bea pointed out different people at the table. There was a smile plastered on my face and despite being happy to be involved in James’ life, I wished I’d have stayed home in bed. There was a pain brewing in my head and drained both my water glass and James’. 

“You alright?” James leaned against me and whispered after we’d ordered. “Sorry I didn’t introduce you, I’m not very good at this.”

“It’s okay,” I smiled weakly. “I’m not either.” It was the truth. I had no idea how to be someone’s date, especially not to an NHL team dinner. There were too many conversations going on for me to hear everything that was being said. There were a few women at the other table, and I assumed they were wives, but they kept to themselves, their conversation seemed quiet and careful not to overpower the loud voices to the men. Bea and I were the only females at our table and I tried to get a look at the left hands of the players to see if they’d left anyone at home. For some reason the relationship status of my fellow diners seemed fascinating. I decided while scouring the table for wedding bands that I should do a series on hands and the people they belong to. Slipping my phone out I copied my ideas into an email and sent it to myself. Go figure brilliance would strike when I’d left my camera at home and was trying to make a good impression. 

I faded in and out of the conversation at the table, careful not to say too much knowing that my head was still in the clouds. Every so often someone would ask me a question and the attention was turned to me, I’d answer, but I wasn’t offering up any information just yet. I hardly knew James well enough to tell him my life story, let alone his teammates. 

“So James said you’re nanny?” Bea asked after our food had been served. The rest of the table was chattering about a previous game so I was the only one who’d heard her question. 

“Yeah,” I smiled, covering my mouth as I swallowed a bite of potatoes. “Three kids.” 

“That must be fun,” she took a bite of steak and I noticed she’d rearranged the food on her plate into sections. Three of each type of food. 

“I really like it,” I nodded, finishing off my fourth glass of water. “Do you work for the team?” I’d been hesitant to ask but couldn’t hold my curiosity any longer. 

“I do!” she grinned. “Well, I did. until this month. I’m on the medical team, but someone,” she motioned to Sidney who too busy talking to the rest of the table to notice us. “Got a little too freaked out about me working this close to baby time so I’m on leave now.”

“When are you due?” I asked, trying to guess in my mind what she’d say. I settled on beginning of January when she answered. 

“Early February,” she glanced down at her stomach and smiled. Damn it, off by a month. 

“Right before the Olympics,” I commented as the waitress filled my water glass yet again. 

“Hopefully before. Man I’m hoping for before. I’d like to avoid giving birth by myself while my husband hangs out in Russia eating caviar and knish!” she laughed and caught Sidney’s attention.   
“I don’t even like caviar,” he teased and gently rest his hand on her stomach. “Besides, she’ll be out before I leave. We have a deal.” Sidney smiled and winked at his wife, quickly abolishing any preconceived impressions I had of him from the media. 

“I really hope you’re right, but I’m telling you now we’re having a boy,” Bea chuckled and leaned against him. “I know these things.” 

“We better be right, Bea!” Beau called from the other end of the table. “I got big money on this.” 

“Thanks for being so invested in my crotch creature, buddy.” she called back to him, the whole table laughing at their exchange. I got the impression that Bea was just another member of the team and I couldn’t help but envy how calm and easy going she was interacting with them. I was far from a nervous person but I couldn’t imagine commanding the attention of a room so effortlessly. I decided right there that I liked her and if this thing between James and I lasted, I would do everything I could to be friends with her. 

I was laughing as Bea and Beau continued to bicker when my phone rang. I didn’t hear the first call, too focused on that action in front of me, but when my phone rang for a second time I grabbed it and excused myself from the lively table. Standing outside the room I checked my caller ID and saw his name, Leo with a heart beside it. He’d put the heart there, not me. I groaned and answered, heading for the front door of the restaurant. The more space between this conversation and James, the better. 

“What the fuck, Colbie?” Leo cried into the phone. He was reasonably distressed and I felt a sliver of guilt for not calling him sooner. “I’ve called you like ten times, I thought you were dead.” My guilt quickly faded to annoyance. 

“Sorry,” I mumbled. What did he want me to say? I wasn’t actually sorry but I knew he had a reason to be a little worried. I had left his house with another guy. 

“Where are you? Are you okay?” he continued. For someone who claimed to be so calm and one with the earth he was the most high strung person I’d ever met. 

“I’m fine,” I leaned against the brick wall of the building and pulled my coat around me tightly. “Are you in Vermont?” 

“Yes, I got here a few hours ago. What happened?” he sounded like a child about to throw a temper tantrum, the difference being that most children were better behaved than Leo. “Fuck Colbie, you scared me!” 

“Yeah,” I rolled my eyes to no one. “I’m sorry. I just decided to leave with James and you were too fucked up to really notice anyway.” 

“Right, James. The big shot with his designer jeans. I can’t believe you even associate with that capitalist slave,” he was two comments away from climbing onto his well worn soap box. 

“He’s not that bad,” I groaned, trying to fend off his rant. 

“Sure, go ahead and defend the guy who just signed a $30million contract. Did he pay you to say that?” I could hear him pacing through the phone and I knew he was clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“Who gives a shit what he makes, Leo. He does his job and gets paid for it. Are you jealous?” I couldn’t fight back my own frustration anymore. 

“He’s a slave to the corporations and ideas that are ruining our world, I thought you would have seen that. But yeah, I am jealous. I’m jealous that my girlfriend left with some fucking pig without telling me,” he spat into the phone. “Are you with him now? Are you drinking Cristal and driving through the slums in his limo?” 

“Cristal isn’t even that good!” I replied, purposely trying to piss him off now. “And no one drives around in a fucking limo in Pittsburgh.” I think part of me was hoping that if I pissed him off enough he’d hang up on me and never call back. 

“Christ, Colbie, it’s like I don’t even know you sometimes. I should know my own girlfriend.” He sounded upset but I couldn’t muster any feelings of sympathy. 

“I’m not your girlfriend,” I mumbled, shoving my free hand into my pocket and letting my head fall back against the wall. 

“What?” his voice cracked. It could have been from anger, but it was more likely that he was crying. Leo wasn’t the kind of guy afraid to show his emotions and I couldn’t fault him for that, but it did get a little over the top. 

“I’m not your girlfriend, Leo. I never was. You were never my boyfriend. We were just warm bodies for each other. You were a great fuck, but this was never going anywhere and you knew that,” I had little to no emotion in my voice. I was too tired to care, I just wanted to get rid of him and go back into the warm restaurant with my beautiful life and full glass of water. 

“What are you talking about?” his voice was tight and the tears were on their way, I knew it. “I thought we had something.” 

“We did,” I sighed. “We had decent to good sex. I don’t remember ever saying we were more.” Whatever was keeping me from hanging up, deserved a goddamn thank you card from his sad ass. 

“So were you slutting around while we were together? Fucking every fascist who smiled at you? Are you just sucking off the one moron or have you gotten a taste of the whole team?” He was angry, crying and furious. I was genuinely surprised to hear those accusations coming from his mouth. 

“You bet,” I replied coldly, there was no use defending myself to him. He was going to go around and tell all his little friends I was a good for nothing slut no matter what I said. “The support staff too. Sometimes two at a time.” 

“Fuck you,” he was full on crying now. I knew I should feel bad, or at least feel something but instead I popped a piece of gum in my mouth from the pack in my pocket. 

“Sorry,” I said again, not that it made any difference, bit I figured it was what he needed to hear. “You’re a great guy, I’m just not really into the whole hypocritical asshole thing, you understand. Happy Thanksgiving though!” 

I finally hung up and ran into the restaurant, shivering from the cold and finding my way to the dining room again. I hung my coat up on the hooks at the door of the private room and left my phone in the pocket. I had no doubt he’d call again in a few minutes and I didn’t want to deal with him again. I was officially free to be with James, not that anything should have stopped me in the first place. 

“Where’d you go?” James asked when I returned to my seat beside him. 

“Just had to take a call,” I slit my hand onto his lap and he took it between his, smiling. 

“Everything alright?” he looked concerned but not to the point that Leo would have been. 

“Yeah, just had to deal with Leo bullshit,” I leaned closer to him, still shivering and trying to steal some of his body heat. 

“Oh?” he let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. 

“No big deal. Apparently you’re a fascist and I’m a slut,” I chuckled, the feeling finally coming back in my hands. 

“Sweet, sounds like a nice guy. Too bad I didn’t get to know him better,” James laughed quietly so only I could hear. 

“It’s a shame. I had no idea I liked fascists,” I winked. 

“That’s funny, because I’ve always known I liked sluts,” he smirked and kissed me lightly. “But hey, better to be with a fascist than a pylon.”


	10. Chapter 10

When I’d agreed to upgrade from Leo to James, I’d somehow assumed that my life was going to change drastically. Of course there were some scheduling changes, but overall my life was still my life. I spent most of my time commuting from Jessica’s to campus with the occasional stop at my apartment. The end of the semester meant the deadlines I’d thought were miles away were suddenly standing in front of me, taunting me and holding signs with failing grades written in bright red marker. So while James and I had been together for a little over two weeks, I’d yet to meet his moles and freckles. In fact, I’d only seen him twice after the team dinner. I had to admit I was impressed by my own patience. With the exception of Ben, my high school boyfriend and best friend, I’d never waited more than a week before sleeping with someone. And by a week, I mean it usually happened within the first three days. But despite desperately wanting James, I didn’t feel that sense of urgency. There was no need to rush things with him, I had faith that even without hanky-panky he’d still stick around, although I wasn’t wanting to test that theory. 

“What are you doing?” He was calling from a hotel room in Chicago, I imagined him sprawled out on a bed in his boxers, his hair a mess and chin stubbly. I shivered and had to stop my mind from wandering. 

“Just sorting through shots for my final,” I replied, sitting on the floor of my apartment surrounded by prints. “I can’t make up my mind.” I shuffled through a pile of I’d developed a few weeks earlier of Jack and Riley playing in a pile of leaves. 

“Show me?” he asked and I heard the squeaking of the bed underneath him. “Go on Skype, I’ll call you back there.”

He hung up and I quickly ran to the mirror pulling my unruly copper curls into a ponytail and shaking my bangs out. I pulled off my oversized hoodie and adjusted my boobs in my white tank top. Sure, he’d seen me looking a little less than perfect before, but I wasn’t ready for him to realize how common my dishevelled look was. Racing back to my desk, I pulled my laptop down to the floor with me and leaned against the bed. He called as soon as I logged in and used the reflection of the screen to ensure my boobs were still showing just enough cleavage while I waited for the call to connect. 

“Hi,” he grinned when his face popped onto my screen. “I missed your face,” he said quietly and I could hear someone snicker in the background. 

“I miss you too,” I blushed and studied the fuzzy image of his face. “Is that from the Shaw high stick?” I reached out to touch the cut on his bottom lip. He’d suffered worse but I was perversely intrigued by the shocking maroon gash on his lightly pigmented skin. It was slightly swollen and I could see three stitches poking out. I wondered if it would be bruised by the time he got home, and how much I’d have to adjust the saturation to pick up the colours if I were to take a picture of him. 

“Yeah,” he brushed his fingers over it gently. “No big deal.”

“Makes you look tough,” I winked. 

“I try,” he shrugged and laughed quietly. “So you watched the game?” 

“Most of it,” I started flipping through the pile of pictures again, trying to decide which ones I wanted to bother showing him. “I didn’t want to keep Jessica up too late so I left half way through the third.”

“See that’s why you need a TV,” he teased and picked up the computer, moving back to the bed. Seeing him with his back against the headboard reminded me of waking up beside him after my wild night. 

“Why would I need a TV? All the good porn is on the internet,” I said dryly, watching his face for a reaction. He grinned and shook his head laughing, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. There was another voice coming from outside the screen that was laughing just as loudly. The same one I’d heard snicker. 

“I’d love to know how you learned this.” 

“Common knowledge,” I shrugged. “Who are you with?” 

“Sunshine,” he rubbed his face, still chuckling. “So are you going to show me those pictures?” 

I nodded and picked up another pile, “So these are all raw, some self portraits. I haven’t done any touching and they’re pretty bare.” I picked the first one off of the top and held it up. 

“What the hell are you two talking about?” I heard the other voice say and James looked away from the screen. 

“Pictures,” James answered. “She’s got a project due.” I saw him glare at Beau, then focus back on the screen. Before either of us could continue the conversation, I saw the image shake and Beau appeared on my screen, leaning over James and grinning into the camera.

“I missed your face too, Colbie!” he obnoxiously bat his eyelashes and flicked his wrist. 

“Hi Beau,” I laughed and tried to look over him to see James who rolled his eyes. 

“So let’s see these nudes,” Beau settled in beside James and sat patiently with his hands folded in his lap. 

“Just to be clear, these are all film shots, I take my nudes using digital. Y’know for distribution purposes,” I said matter-of-factly. James and Beau looked at each other with a mixture of horror and delight on their faces. I didn’t give them enough to time to form a response before holding up the first picture. 

“This project is going to drive me to the allegorical looney bin. Originally my theme was going to be like youth and changes, but I’m not really representing that given that I only have four people to photograph.” I explained, still holding up a black and white shot I’d taken of myself the first day of classes. It had only been a few months but I swore the girl in the picture was a stranger. It was taken in the bedroom area of my apartment, me sitting crosslegged on the bed, not making eye contact with the camera but trying to smile. I could see my own terror in the image, the little traces of anxiety hidden in the stiffness of my jaw and the way my eyes looked to the left. In it I’m holding the family photo taken the day I left, the one that still made me cry if I was having a rough day. The picture itself was nothing spectacular, technically it was solid but there was nothing overly exciting about it. It didn’t seem like the kind of artistic analysis of life I knew my professor was expecting. 

The second self portrait I showed them was from the night of the home opener. In it I’m staring directly at the camera, hair pushed out of my face, my scarf still on and my cheeks flushed. I was sitting on the counter, holding the ticket stub at the edge of the frame. My face was more relaxed, there was an energy in this one that I wondered if other people could sense without knowing the backstory. I held up a few more shots, ones I’d taken of the kids, all in colour, all full of an unexplainable joy that I had been able to capture effortlessly. It was easy to capture emotions in their little faces though, the pictures took themselves as I stood by acting as some kind of mechanical support for the camera. If only I could do the same with myself. 

“I like them!” Beau said when I’d returned the last picture to the envelope. “They’re really good.” 

“Thanks,” I smiled back at him, waiting for James to give me some kind of response. Instead he just sat there a look of concentration spread across his tired face. I wanted to crack open his mind and read what he was thinking, but instead I left him to process turning once again to Beau. “I just can’t figure out how to make them all work in a project, I feel like I need more diversity but I know like six people in this city,” I sighed, shuffling the envelopes beside me. 

“Call Bea!” Beau replied excitedly. “Bea will definitely be able to help you, she’s pretty artsy.” 

“Like Crosby?” I looked at him alarmed. There was no way in hell I was calling Beatrice Crosby to help me with my silly little project. 

“Keller-Crosby,” he corrected me. “But yeah, she’s bored out of her mind right now I’m sure she’d be stoked to see you.” He looked so enthusiastic and sure of himself, even if the idea sounded ludicrous. 

“I can’t do that,” I laughed. “I hardly know her.” 

“You should call Beatrice,” James finally spoke, a soft smile across his lips. Their insistence seemed strange, like they’d forgotten that I’d only met her once. I wondered what kind of role she played in their lives, if she was more than just their captain’s wife. 

“Trust me,” he said softly and I wanted to be in Chicago beside him more than I could handle. Trust wasn’t my forte. Trust was a relatively foreign concept actually, but those two words coming from his red, tantalizing lips had me melting in a way I’d never experienced. Oh how desperately did I want to trust him. I wanted to throw away any reservations that had nestled themselves inside of me and go running footloose and wildly into his arms. Propel myself off of my fears and dive into the dark unknown of James Neal. 

We said goodnight and I set aside my project for another day, then crawling into bed and letting the mental images of his face flood my mind. That face that could break a million hearts, that body that take over my life, that man who could destroy me. I looked forward to him in a way I hadn’t anticipated anything in years, like a child on Christmas morning I was giddy with excitement, eager to see what was in store for me. After years of living recklessly and skirting around anything to do with actually caring about another person it was refreshing to let myself fall, and I was giving myself full permission to fall as hard as I could. 

 

I woke up the next morning with the joy of a free Saturday welcoming me to the weekend. Jessica had given me the day off and I had ambitious plans of doing absolutely nothing all day. The day was mine for the taking and I entered it with no expectations. Outside my window snow blanketed the the city for the first time that winter and continued to fall lazily from the sky. Pittsburgh still felt like a new city to me, I wasn’t yet comfortable with the streets or landmarks, but covered in snow it started to feel like home. After watching the snow from the edge of my bed, I did the same thing I’d done every morning since saying yes to James, I reached for my phone to call him. However instead of the usual good morning text from him I found two more, one from my sister and another from an unknown number. 

UNKNOWN:  
Hi Colbie, It’s Bea- we met at the Pens team dinner a few weeks ago. I got your number from James who said you were looking for people for a project. I’d love to help if I can. 

I reread the message a few times, amazed that she’d actually text me. I noticed that she didn’t refer to herself as Crosby’s wife, and even her message felt friendly. Was it possible to be starstruck by a player’s wife? Was it as pathetic as I thought? I quickly wrote back asking her when she was free and in less than five minutes we had plans for that afternoon. 

“I can’t believe you actually got her to text me,” I said into the phone, skipping the hello. 

“Good morning,” James laughed on the other end which made me flush and miss him all over again. “And it really wasn’t hard to do. Did you text her back?” 

“Of course I text her back, I’m not in the position to be passing up help,” I replied, getting up from the bed and walking to my sad, empty fridge, hoping to find something breakfast worthy. 

“Good, you’ll like her,” he said with a kind of certainty I wouldn’t usually expect from him. 

“I’m going to her house this after noon,” I pulled out a carton of orange juice and took a drink directly from it. 

“That’s great. Their house is really nice,” he told me and I could hear him moving in the background. I was about to ask what he was doing when it dawned on me that he’d said ‘their’ house, as in Sid and Bea, Sidney and Beatrice Crosby, Keller-Crosby whatever. I was going to the house of a Canadian icon. A household name whose pictures my brother had plastered on his wall since 2005. I mixture of excitement and nerves began in the pit of my stomach and I dropped the juice jug I’d forgotten I was holding. 

“Sonofabitch, feck’s sake Colbie Kathleen,” I cursed, impersonating my mother perfectly with a slew of words that were often heard coming out of her pursed Irish lips. I sighed and bent down to mop up with orange mess that was covering my kitchen floor. 

“What’s wrong?” James asked concerned, having obviously heard my little outburst. 

“Nothing,” I replied trying to seem cheery while covering the floor with paper towel. “I just realized where I was going and got a little jumpy and spilt nearly a full thing of orange juice on my floor, which sucks because I wanted to drink that.” 

“You got so excited realizing you were going to Crosby’s house that you spilt your juice?” he clarified, failing to hold in his amusement and finishing the sentence with an undignified snort. 

“No!” I cried defensively. “Okay maybe, but stop laughing.” I could hear him clearly snickering in the background. “It’s not funny!” 

“It’s kind of funny,” he said in a softer tone. “Mostly because he’s sitting beside me.” I let out a frustrated groan and heard him say my name to someone in the background. 

“Can you not tell him please?” I half whined into the phone, tossing the first batch of soaked paper towel into the bin. It was starting to feel like embarrassing myself in front of him was some kind of perverse second nature. 

“Relax, Beau asked who I was talking to. Your fangirling is safe with me.”

“I am NOT fangirling!” I made sure to say every word as clearly as possible. 

“It’s totally okay,” he continued to torment me. “It happens to the best of us, just don’t steal his toothbrush or anything okay, babe?” 

“Seriously James I’m going to kill you before we’ve made it past third base,” I threatened and thew the last of the wet paper towel out. 

“Okay that got really mean really quickly. I’m going to let you go cool off there sparky,” he chuckled and I heard background noise growing louder. 

“Yeah, that escalated quickly, I would most definitely sleep with you before committing any felonies,” I reassured him. 

“I’m so comforted by that, Colbie. So, so comforted. But I’m about to get on a plane for St. Louis, so I’ll call you after the game tonight. Please try to curb your violence before I call.” 

“What is violence anyway?” I quoted him, an unavoidable smirk on my face. 

“That’s my girl, have a good day.” 

He hung up a few seconds later and I couldn’t have wiped the smile from my face if I tried. Every conversation with him acted as some kind of grand reassurance that being with him was the right decision. James was like nothing I’d expected him to be and it was a pleasant surprise each time I rediscovered that. I’d expected him to be arrogant, entitled, someone who I would be sick of within a week of meeting, but it had been nearly three months of awkward conversations ad nights spent thinking about his smile and I still felt a flutter in my stomach when his name appeared on my phone. In the book of Colbie Kathleen O’Connor, this would go down as record, the kind that deserved a medal, and possibly a cake. 

 

By the time I left I’d tried on nearly every article of clothing I owned. My goal was to look cool, hip, but like I wasn’t trying at all. But I definitely was trying, in fact I was always trying. Every casually thrown on flannel shirt I wore was a strategic fashion move. Every loose fitting tunic had a purpose. I’d finally settled on jeans when it came time to leave. Jeans and a sweater with a four leafed clover on it that Mallory had bought me last Christmas. No one would ever know it had taken me hours to get dressed. With my kit in the backseat of the car, I managed to make my way to the home of the NHL’s newest royal couple without getting royally lost. And James was right, it was beautiful. Oversized compared to his place and pristine. White siding that looked like it was hand scrubbed daily and two lamps at the end of the long driveway. But it was somehow understated, normal. There were no giant lion statues, or extravagant water features. It was just the inconspicuous home of a multi-millionaire. 

I made my way up the un-shovelled walkway and pushed away the nerves that had returned. I scoffed at how ridiculous it was that my hands were shaking, even if it was unnoticeable. Within seconds of ringing the bell, the heavy door swung open and Bea stood in front of me. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun and she was in a sweater that fit tightly around her stomach, she had no make up on, her socks didn’t match, but she was grinning. 

“Hey! Thank God you’re here,” she laughed, her cheeks almost overshadowing her eyes as she smiled. “I’m so damn bored I think I’m losing my mind.” It wasn’t as if I should have needed it, but at that moment I knew I had no reason to be nervous around her.


	11. Chapter 11

I spent the day enchanted by her. There was something about her that drew me in and kept me captivated. It was more than just the way her skin glowed or the bright colours that covered her arms. It was something deeper that I couldn’t quite put into words.

“I think somebody,” James flopped onto his bed where I was sitting going through the shots I’d just developed. “Has a crush.”

“What are you talking about?” I barely lifted my eyes from the picture, she was looking right at me with a slight smirk, just about to roll her eyes. I remembered that moment, I’d asked her if she’d meant to fall in love with Sidney. Maybe it was a weird question, but she didn’t blink, just smirked and rolled her eyes, snorting out a “not at all” then telling me about their first few months together. 

“It all happened so fast!” she kept saying. I’d watch her eyes light up with every mention of her husband and the slightest hint of pink flush her cheeks. We’d started the shoot talking about her life before Pittsburgh and my project, small talk that I could take or leave, but as soon as the conversation switched to him I knew I’d found her pocket, that little place everyone had in their minds that made their body language change and their entire being brighten. For some people it was talking about their job, or their hobby, for James it was hockey and for Beatrice it was Sidney Crosby. 

I tried to keep her in that headspace, urging her to tell me more when the conversation would slow down. Meanwhile keeping my finger on the trigger and getting into the familiar focus, breathe, shoot, rhythm with the hopes of capturing a few perfect moments. I held those moments in my hands. Printed on thick glossy paper with thin white frames around the edge were the memories I’d relived with her. 

“Colbie?” James nudged me with his shoulder, now sitting beside me resting against the headboard. 

“Huh?” I didn’t look up, instead flipping to the next picture in the pile. This time she had her shirt pulled up a bit and was looking down at her stomach laughing. It was moments after she’d given me three vital pieces of advice about dating James: don’t pay attention to the media, don’t take the moods personally, and don’t let him get away with shit just because he’s a big name. Just as she’d finished her stomach growled loudly and she looked down at it in amused horror before filling the soon to be nursery with her sing-song laughter. 

“Colbieee,” James pet the side of my head trying to get my attention to shift from the pictures to him. 

“What do you need?” I put the pile on my lap and finally turned to face him, giving him the attention he apparently could not live with out. 

“Are you staying here tonight?” he nuzzled his face into my neck, kissing along my jaw. Being so close to him felt wonderful, especially after the road trip he’d just returned from. I would have been happy to spend the night with his mouth pressed against my skin and hands roaming freely, but my mind forced me to look at the alarm clock beside us. 

“Awh crap!” I groaned seeing the illuminated red numbers read 10:49 pm. It was an hour later than I’d expected to see and on a Wednesday night during finals, I was really pushing this procrastination. 

“Just stay,” he tried to slip his hand under my shirt but I stopped him. 

“I can’t, I have a paper to do for Friday and this project is due next week,” I pouted. What I wouldn’t have given to spend that night with him, maybe move past the kissing and round the proverbial bases. 

“It’s late, you shouldn’t be driving this late. I have practice in the morning I can wake you up before I leave,” he kept kissing, and finally got his hand from under mine and up my shirt. 

“You’re making it really hard to be responsible,” I grumbled and gave in to the temptation of his body so close to mine. 

“Shh, you can be responsible in the morning,” he nipped at the soft skin behind my ears and I knew there was no way I was making it home tonight. I told myself I’d just rearrange a few things, maybe stay up extra late the next few nights, I mean this was for my mental health, right? A stress reliever of sorts? 

I relocated the pictures to the bed side table and turned off the lamp leaving us with just the soft glow of the ensuite bathroom lights. When I finally gave James the okay, my shirt came off so fast I was surprised he hadn’t ripped the thing off. His didn’t last much longer and my bra wasn’t even off before his hand dove under the waist band of my pants and we shimmied them down my thighs. He tickled his fingers over my already damp underwear and watched me squirm with a smirk plastered to his lips. I tried to be patient and enjoy the teasing while he kissed down my chest and toyed with the edges of my underwear. When he finally pushed them aside and made skin on skin contact I had to stifle a moan. The satisfaction of his fingers against me after months of anticipation was enough to drive me crazy. Two fingers inside of me and his lips met his hands at my lower half. My pants were shed and I was prepared to feel his mouth right where I wanted it, where I’d dreamed of it for ages. When it finally happened, his tongue finally hit me, I let out a pleased sigh and forced myself to relax and enjoy the moment. School could wait, I had more important things to attend to. 

“Colbie,” he stopped. 

“Yeah?” I squeaked, disappointed to feel his mouth pull away. 

“I… think we have a problem,” he looked up at me and I finally opened my eyes to see what would scar me for the rest of my life. I flicked on the light and stared at him in horror. It was like a scene out of a slasher film, his fingers were stained red, along with his nose and a smear on his cheek. My poor unsuspecting new boyfriend had literally come face to face with the delights of my irregular crimson wave. Shark week was early this year and he was the sad victim of the unplanned attack. 

“Ohmygod,” I shrieked and pulled away from him horrified. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. It doesn’t warn me sometimes, it has a mind of its own but this has never happened before. Oh god that is disgusting, I’m so sorry.” I prattled on as he got up and made his way to the bathroom. This was a level of mortification I had never experienced before. This took passing out on his bathroom floor and made it as embarrassing as brushing my teeth. Nothing would ever compare to literally bleeding on his face. 

“It’s fine,” he called back with his head under the tap. How he wasn’t gagging was beyond me. Instead he loaded his toothbrush with toothpaste and popped it in his mouth as if he’d just eaten something with onions and garlic. “It happens,” he assured me, toothpaste collecting at the corners of his mouth and trickling down his chin. 

“No it doesn’t,” I pulled the pillow over my face, terrified to move and see the potential mess underneath me. 

“Okay so it doesn’t,” he replied after spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth out. I didn’t move the pillow, instead just let out a loud groan and started wishing hard that I would disappear, or wake up from a dream, or come down after having been dosed with an hallucinogen, anything but have this incident forever be a reality in my life. 

“Seriously, it’s not that big a deal, relax,” he smacked my legs playfully and pulled the blankets off of me. 

I threw the pillow at him and scowled, then gathering what dignity I had left, wrapped the top sheet around me and took my personalized walk of shame to the bathroom. After I’d washed the evidence off of me, and let go of the rest of my dignity when I had to ask him to bring me my bag, I returned to the bedroom to find the bedsheets changed and James laying on the made bed watching sports centre. Still mortified, I stood wrapped in a towel waiting for him to say something, maybe ask me to leave or break up with me on the spot, I was in to place to be shocked by the unexpected at this point. Instead he just smiled and shrugged. 

“I’m sorry,” I said once again and tried to avoid any kind of eye contact with him. 

He didn’t respond, just got up and grabbed a t-shirt from his dresser and tossed it in my direction. “You’re still staying, right?” 

I slept beside him that night, waking up to his arm draped over me and his face planted in the pillow, the blankets barely covering his half naked body. The sun shone through the window, a beam landing on his back. The lighting was perfect, his skin just flushed enough that I could see and the red of his scruff looking vibrant. I wanted to slip out of the bed and find my camera, kneel down at his eye level and take an entire roll of film just focusing on the relaxed look on his face and the smooth ripple of his muscles, his light skin contrasting the darkness of his tattoos and the occasional freckles that dotted his skin. But despite everything aligning perfectly for a shot, I knew we weren’t quite serious enough to make taking pictures of him sleeping not weird. So instead of going after the shot, I hoped there’d come a day I could spend a roll on his sleeping body and got up to make breakfast. 

My film camera sat on the counter beside me as I cracked eggs into a hot pan, tempting me. We’d been together for weeks and I still hadn’t taken a single picture of him. It seemed like such a waste to leave that face undiscovered. I realized as the bacon grease crackled on the stove that my project needed one last photograph. 

I tried to take them without him noticing, but every time I reached for the camera he’d scowl at me. 

“Do you know how many pictures I have to sit through?” he’d ask, making it clear he wanted nothing to do with my in house paparazzi role play. The difference was though, that I didn’t want him to sit through anything, I just wanted to take it while he was doing whatever he’d usually do, but telling someone to act natural while they had a camera pointed at them was like telling them to just eat healthy and exercise, it was a nice idea, but not nearly as easy as it seemed. 

I broke my own rule and spent the rest of the week sleeping beside him. How I managed to get that paper in by Friday is beyond me, but somehow between entertaining the kids and snuggling beside him on the couch I managed. But the deadline for my final project was fast approaching, and I still didn’t have the final piece I needed. With two days left, I lay beside him, half awake and watching his chest rise and fall. It was probably creepy to be watching him sleep, but I liked seeing him stationary and relaxed. I was almost caught when my phone began to ring loudly beside me. 

“Colbie, love,” my mothers voice rang through the phone when I answered, far too chipper for the timezone she was calling from. 

“Hi, Ma,” I answered, trying to hide the fact that she’d pulled me out of the sleepy moment and sneaking out of the room without waking James. 

“You are a hard girl to get ahold of, Fallon has been calling you for a week,” she began, the guilt trip already starting. I settled in the living room, sitting on the couch in just my underwear. 

“Sorry, Ma. It’s finals, I’m a gobdaw but I’ve been shattered.” I learned at an early age that if there was a chance my mother could be mad at me, throwing some of her own slang words from the motherland in the mix would always win me brownie points. 

“It’s fine, love. We were wondering if you’re coming home for the holiday,” she sighed, ramming in the guilt knife just a little harder. I hadn’t even thought about Christmas. It was still a few weeks away and with the chaos of school it hadn’t dawned on me that I might want to make plans. I sat up a little straighter and pushed my hair out of my face trying to remember the last bank statement I’d looked at. I couldn’t recall the exact number but it was low, too low to even consider buying a ticket home. Never mind the fact that Jessica was still relying on me to be there while the she was at work. 

“I don’t think I can,” I held my breath waiting for her reaction. “I have to work,” I tried to soften the blow by sounding responsible. 

“I thought you might,” she replied sounding disappointed but not angry and I let out my breath. Disappointment was soul crushing but much easier to take over the phone “Your Da and I were thinking you might want some company after Christmas though, Fallon and Jake have both been saving up and they want to see you.” 

“Really?” I replied, looking up to find James standing in the doorway of his room looking at me. I held the phone away and mouthed the word ‘mother’ and he nodded, then flopped back on the bed. “That would be so awesome,” I smiled to myself. I’d been missing my family since I crossed the border, and the idea of seeing my little brother and sister seemed like a nice compromise. But as I looked into the room and saw James laying there I realized that their visit would take our low key relationship to a family affair, one that I wasn’t sure I could handle. 

“I’d really like that, but I’m not sure I uh… have the room,” I told her, which wasn’t exactly a lie, my apartment barely fit me, let alone two other people. “Can I get back to you? Later today maybe?” 

“Okay, but if you don’t call before 9pm your time I’m calling you back,” she warned. “I love you.” 

“Alright, Ma, love you too.” I rushed then hung up and tossed my phone onto the couch beside me. 

“What was that about?” James asked when I dove into the bed beside him. 

“My brother and sister want to come see me after Christmas,” I pulled the blanket around me and sunk into the comfort of his luxury bed that was beginning to spoil me against my own. 

He rolled onto his back and yawned. “They want to like come back with you after?” 

“No, they want to come here the day after. I’m not going home this year,” I gave him a sad smile and shrugged. I didn’t like the idea of it but it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world. I’d already been invited to join Jessica and the kids on Christmas eve, and I’d probably just spend the day at the park or watching movies. 

“That sucks, do you want to come home with me? I’m sure my mom would love to meet you,” he offered casually. 

“Uhm, no. Absolutely not.” I snorted, very unbecoming of a lady scantily clad in bed beside an NHL heartthrob. 

“Why the hell not?” he propped himself on his elbow and looked at me as if he was trying to decide whether to be offended or not. 

“Do you really want me to meet your family for the first time on Christmas? That makes this a thing, like a serious thing.” 

He cocked his head to the side and waited a beat before replying. “You’ve been in my bed for the past like week. Isn’t this already a thing?” 

“No I mean like a thing. Like a serious, me wearing jeans without holes in them to impress your parents, watching my language, answering questions kind of thing. Be honest, do they know I exist?” 

“Okay, I get it. Do your parents know I exist?” 

“Of course they know you exist, my brother watches TSN like it’s his day job,” I rolled my eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

He gave me the kind of look that said ‘I can’t answer this without being wrong’, then shrugged. “It’s not like I talk to them that often.” 

“I talk to mine, but not about whose bed I’m taking advantage of. So don’t worry about it.” 

“I still don’t want you to be alone on Christmas, Colbie. That’s just pathetic.” He grabbed my hand as some kind of affectionate gesture then dropped it. “Maybe I’ll stay here with you.” 

“Oh so we can be pathetic together?” I shuffled towards him and bat my eyelashes. 

“Maybe,” he grabbed me and pulled me against him, I’d been waiting to touch him that closely all morning. 

“Anyway, I don’t know if they’ll come anyway, I don’t have a lot of room.” I let my hand rest on his stomach. 

“How old are they?”

“Jake is almost seventeen and Fallon is thirteen. That’s the other thing, I’m not sure what world my mother is living in where I’m responsible enough to keep track of them.” 

“Dude,” he looked at me confused. “You watch kids for a living.” 

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Yeah, kids. Not seventeen year old hockey players and shy thirteen year olds. Kids are easy, teenage boys are not.”   
“I’ll help,” he gave me a reassuring squeeze and an offer i wasn’t expecting. “I have empty rooms, we can get some beds and you guys can stay here. I have a road game the 29th but other than that we’re in town until January 3rd.”

“Are you serious?” I pulled away from him and sat up, holding the blanket around my bare torso.

“It’ll be fun,” he shrugged as if it was nothing, or maybe he just didn’t realize that it was something. 

“You don’t think it will be weird? Meeting two of my siblings, having them here?” I was offering him an out. 

“Two of? How many do you have?” The man was willing to bring me home to his mother but had no idea the make up of my own family. He was either more serious than I knew, or not all there in the head. 

“I have four. My older sister Mallory lives in Toronto, and Aoife is five.” 

“Wow, so your parents are like really Irish?”

I’d heard that question before, maybe it was the surprise sister I had that seemed to be a common thing in catholic families, or it was the collection of names my parents had assigned to us, but the question of heritage came up almost as much as if my hair was naturally that bright. “You obviously didn’t hear my mother through the phone,” I laughed. “She moved to Canada from Limerick when she was 19, and my dad’s parents are from Letterkenny.” 

“That’s pretty cool. Yeah I think it would be fun to meet them. I can get you guys tickets to the games.”

“Well that’s awfully generous of you,” I pat his chest and laughed. 

 

I spent the next night at my apartment, determined to finish my project. It was snowing outside my window and I sat on the floor with Tom Petty on the record player and printed, glossy photographs laid out around me. I’d been sitting like that for most of the evening, briefly checking the score of the Pens game, but generally just trying to focus on picking the perfect shots. There was something about this project that had me stumped. I desperately wanted to blow it out of the water but I just couldn’t make the final decisions. I was taking a ten minute dance break after writing a few paragraphs of description when I heard a knock on the door and had to leap over piles of pictures and books to unlock the deadbolt. James stood on the other side of the door holding a pizza and a bottle of wine. 

“I figured you hadn’t eaten,” he smiled and took a step forward to greet me. 

“You know me so well already!” I kissed him, then looked over my shoulder only to realize that my apartment was a complete disaster. “Can you hold on one second?” I pushed him out the door without explanation and closed it quickly. While he stood waiting with the pizza I raced around trying to gather all the dirty clothes, dishes, and take out boxes that were littered around the room. I collected the pictures and piled them on my desk, then as a last ditch effort to make the room look somewhat presentable I pulled my blankets over my bed and lit a candle. 

He gave me a confused look when I opened the door and invited him in, but didn’t say anything, just set the pizza on the counter and kissed me again. I was still getting used to his lips on mine and the freedom his hands had to roam my body. His hair was still damp but he’d taken off his tie and had traded his usual contacts for glasses. We stumbled from the kitchen to my bed without tripping over the various piles I’d made around the room, his mouth not leaving mine and his jacket being discarded along the way. Shoes were kicked off, my sweater met the floor and his belt did the same. I wanted it so badly I could feel the excitement radiating in my toes, but I was still two or so days away from the end of the same period that had so rudely interrupted us the last time we’d tried. I kept kissing him for a few more minutes, knowing in the back of my mind that I had to tell him sooner rather than later. When I finally pulled away and alluded to the presence of an unwelcome visitor he let out a frustrated groan and fell back onto my bed. 

“I don’t think I’ve waited this long since I was in high school,” he sighed, looking just a little miserable and adjusting his pants. When he realized what he’d said he looked at me as if he’d just said something horribly wrong. 

“And I have?” I snorted, pulling my top back so it actually covered me. “I don’t think I’ve gotten to know someone this well before doing the nasty in years.” 

“Well we still could,” he shrugged. 

“And let the pizza get cold? No way,” I got up from the bed to grab the box, taking the bottle with me. In any other situation I’d have no problem getting down to business during my sacred moon time, but there was some sentimental voice inside of my head telling me I needed to make our first time together memorable. So instead I set up shop on the floor and we ate pizza out of the box and drank wine straight from the bottle. My living situation was so different from his, and I was initially embarrassed to let him spend any time there, seeing how I really lived in the tiny space, but after the second slice the self-consciousness faded. 

When the bottle was done and we’d had our fill he asked to see the pictures I’d picked to present. I handed him the pile featuring shots of the kids, Beatrice, and myself, then sat quietly as he flipped through them. I don’t know what he was looking at when his face lit up and blue eyes became just a little brighter His face flushed and and dimples formed in his cheeks as he smiled. I knew then what the final piece to my puzzle was, and without him noticing I reached from my camera and took three successive shots, hoping one of them would turn out perfectly. He realized after what I’d done and rolled his eyes then let out a low chuckle. 

“Did you get what you wanted?” he asked, putting the pictures down and crawling towards me. 

“Maybe,” I giggled, trapped between him and the wall, inches away from his face. He closed the gap between us and kissed me again, his lips tasting like wine and both of us trying not to laugh as he pulled me a little closer. 

“Just maybe?” he brushed hair our of my face and wrinkled his nose. “Do you want me to strike a pose or something? Get this over with so you can stop sneaking around with that thing?” He leaned back on his heels and put his hands behind his head and pouting his lips. I quickly grabbed my camera and pressed down on the shutter release capturing his exaggerated expressions. We took some of him ‘voguing’, growling like a tiger with his hands like claws, and the classic over the shoulder look. When we were done, both laying on the floor laughing, tears pouring down my face, he asked me again. 

“Now did you get what you wanted?” he’d rolled onto his side and had his head propped up on his elbow. 

“I think so,” I bit my lip and smiled. “I think I have just about everything I’ve could want right now.”


End file.
